Kids Movies
by MaySoFarAway
Summary: While moving to New York, Darcy Lewis finds a sketch of a certain hero, pre-serum, and a long convoluted adventure involving movies, super villains, and being a competent SHIELD agent begins. Rating is mostly for language. And some blood. And some love.
1. Chapter 1

((Disclaimer: All right, so this started as a one-shot of fluff on my tumblr, and became two chapter'd tales and a slew of random prompts. I like my romance and I enjoy the movie-verse and it's spunky little bespectacled minor character, but rest assured, I am backed by 16 years of Marvel fandom. I might borrow here and there, but I know my shit ;) I also know the whole 'Darcy introduces Cap to the world' bit has been done, but I like to think I've done something original with it. For all the wonderful readers this has amassed on tumblr, I humbly adore you. Rating mostly for language, blood, and lovin'.))

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Her favorite Disney film had always been Beauty & The Beast. Darcy was well aware that she wasn't alone in this, hell it was practically prerequisite to a girl earning her Quirky Brunette membership card. But it was more than the fact that hey, there was a princess who liked books, and whom everyone thought was a huge weirdo (though those were pretty amazing points). Mainly it tapped into a romantic bone in her body that few things could, even after she'd grown up and gotten far more cynical about the world, love, and everything.

There was that moment, at the end, where sure the Beast turns into a Prince with abs and hair to make Fabio jealous, but Belle didn't care. In fact, Belle looked worried and a little sad at first. Little Darcy would hug her pillow to her chest, hardly breathing as her heroine stared into the eyes of this new fellow, not ready to accept him until she saw the same person she'd fallen for staring back at her, with those same clear blue eyes.

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Stark Tower wasn't exactly as advertised. "Woah, they weren't kidding when they said we'd have to do some of our own cleanup." Jane was grumbling, setting a toppled desk chair right side up, in front of a desk piled almost to the ceiling with boxes.

"We've got stuff coming in from all over the place," A passing agent told her, looking like some sort of strange, suit-wearing moving guy with his arms full of more boxes. "Lab equipment. Avengers intel. Waffle-makers."

"Aaaand still holes to fix in the joint, I see," Darcy added, looking at the missing far wall thoughtfully, the plastic sheeting wafting on the high-rise breeze. The agent nodded, smirking.

"Well," Jane huffed, still in a foul mood, "Let's get to work, people." Darcy couldn't blame her too much for the grumps, she'd finally gotten clearance to work here, to come and see her long-lost God of Thunder, and had arrived only to find her boyfriend gone for a week or so defending the Earth from some alien invasion or another, and her new work space still a battle casualty of the last one.

They did their best that first day, though. Mostly the cleanup consisted of sweeping up rubble, Miss Potts trying to get a glass guy on the phone, and determining if a given box was prudent to the science department. If it wasn't, it got stacked in the hall, much to the chagrin of anyone trying to get from point A to point B.

Hey, Darcy figured, it wasn't her and Jane's fault that they were some of the first to move in and claim a spot.

The next day involved, Darcy was correct in assuming, more boxes. This time the unpacking thereof. And still Miss Potts pacing floor to floor, now half-bullying various purveyors of glass and mortar on her phone.

Darcy was elbow-deep in an ancient-looking box labeled simply "Serum" when she found the file. At first, noting the label and the amount of Captain America stuff inside, Darcy thought perhaps they'd accidentally kept something perhaps meant to be somewhere a bit more top secret. But the scrawling on the side was messy, personal, and the cardboard had the distinct, mothballs-and-old-lady-perfume scent of having been kept in someone's basement.

She glanced over her shoulder. Erik had shown up, and he and Jane were deep in catch-ups-ville, so Darcy turned back to the box with a devious little noise. The scientific notes were scant and mostly just observations. There were a few comics and trading cards that would've made Agent Coulson gleeful. A moldy manilla folder held Steve Rogers' various attempts at joining the army, and she couldn't help smiling. Under that folder was another, containing only a few papers, two photos and, Darcy found, a drawing. Her jaw dropped. It was Captain America, but it wasn't.

He was such a short, skinny thing. The first photo must have been right before his procedure, looking dubious yet eager. The next was a shot from boot camp, Darcy figured, his uniform too big for him, but his face set with such determination. In the corner of the photo there was a ruby-red smudge...lipstick, Darcy quickly surmised, and something twisted inside of her, something sad and bereft as she looked back down on what had at first seemed such an odd collection of Cap mementos. It made sense now, though. These had been all that someone special had left.

The last piece of paper was torn from a sketchbook, Darcy could tell. It was a drawing of that same skinny boy, at that odd angle she knew you usually saw in self portraits, done hastily, as if it'd been a simple exercise in drawing faces. Still, it was very good. Darcy could see why someone who'd cared for him would keep it...Steve had gotten his own face perfectly, the old face, sunken cheeks, skinny shoulders, determined brow. And those eyes of his. She caught herself staring back at him, wondering if there was anyone alive left in the world who'd known that boy, if he was still that boy...

"Darcy!" Jane's voice startled her from across the room, where the scientist had returned to cutting open boxes, now with Erik put to work as well, "C'mon, I'm still missing half my instruments!"

"Yes, Khaleesi," Darcy shot back in a deep voice, rolling her eyes. A wad of packing paper hit her in the back of the head. She shut the box again carefully...and pocketed the drawing.

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The week passed quickly, and Darcy found herself immensely enjoying her new working digs, even without the famous Avengers home to make things even more interesting. The labs on what were designated "The Geek Floors" were huge, the wifi was incomparable, and the more the tower was cleaned and polished, the more it felt like working on a space station. Darcy actually found herself thoroughly enjoying being Jane's errand girl, because going on a coffee run in Stark Tower was like going on a mini-tour of the future. The building even talked to you.

Still, busy as she was, Darcy found herself periodically pulling that drawing out of her pocket, unfolding it carefully and studying the face looking back up at her. He was so small, like every scrawny nerd she'd ever seen shoved up against a locker in highschool. She'd seen his medical records on his enlistment sheets too, she knew the poor guy had been sickly and allergic to everything. An easy target. In some ways she'd hardly even admit to Jane, Darcy could relate. And yet his eyes were so -good-, like life hadn't beaten the good guy out of him. Developing way too early and dealing with what came after had given Darcy a pretty thick, caustic skin.

But then, Steve Rogers -did- have that great shield.

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When word came that the chopper was coming in, Darcy threw on her grownup clothes and hurried to the roof to meet the big man, and you know, a few other superheroes. She felt awkward, smoothing a pencil skirt under her lap coat and tipping sideways in shoes that gave her a good four inches. "The dress code dissolves quickly, don't worry," Pepper Potts said mildly at her side, "Best to keep the heels around though for when Fury shows up." She nodded to the imposing figure across the roof, "He likes to think we're all professional all the time."

"He knows we're still like, totally not, right?" Darcy cursed the rooftop wind for blowing her hair so ungracefully into her face, sticking to her lip gloss. Pepper's hair, of course, blew gracefully everywhere -but- her face. It was probably on orders.

"Of course he does. The man just needs his illusions. Ah, there they are!" She waved at the approaching helicopter, and between Darcy and Erik, Jane suddenly forgot how to breathe. Darcy laughed, the sound drowned out by the spinning blades. Brilliant, determined, strong, Jane Foster was still reduced to a breathless kid at the prospect of seeing her boyfriend again.

Predictably, Thor was the first one off the chopper, and it was like something out of a cheesy movie, the running, the sweeping her off her feet, the epic kissing in front of mildly uncomfortable friends and colleagues. Darcy grinned, "GET A ROOM!"

"I like that one!" Tony Stark noted, sauntering across the helipad and retracting his mask. Behind him, Clint Barton was propped up between Natasha and, Darcy guessed as he wasn't green or giant, Bruce Banner.

"Medical team settled in? Someone forgot he wasn't fireproof." Natasha sent toward Pepper, who was kissing Tony's cheek. She nodded,

"Set up and on call."

"I'll be -fine-," Hawkeye was grumbling, and no one was listening.

"I'll have to meet my new team a bit later, excuse me," Dr. Banner nodded to Darcy and Erik, smiling briefly and apologetic as they hurried to get Clint inside, Fury and Erik following, leaving Darcy to...well. Look awkwardly toward Jane and Thor, who were quite lost to the world in PDA. She'd really been hoping to say hi to the big lug herself, but oh well, it could wait.

"Well so much for properly saying hello to our new oompa-loompas," Tony coughed, and then waved over Darcy's shoulder, "STEVE, tell Pepper how you pulled Clint out of a burning warehouse!"

"I ah. Pulled Clint. Out of a burning warehouse." A voice deadpanned. Darcy looked back toward the chopper as Captain America himself approached, hood back, uniform looking a bit singed. He was grinning though, and Darcy suddenly found herself with the utmost sympathy for Jane's inability to breathe properly.

"Excellent. Boys, these are the newest members of our science department..."

"Oompa-loompas." Tony corrected. Pepper swatted him.

"...Jane Foster, her assistant Darcy Lewis..."

"Jane's a bit occupied," Darcy took Tony's hand, trying not to be too awed. It was just, you know, Tony Stark, "And I may be short but I am decidedly not orange, dude."

"I stand corrected."

"Miss Lewis," Darcy turned back toward The Cap, taking the offered hand. "Steve Rogers," He grinned, and she met his eyes. She blinked once, and it felt very slow, her gaze moving swiftly all over his face, a face that looked so much like the one she'd studied...more so in person, really, than comparing that sketch to old posters and news clippings. And then back to his eyes, for a long moment, before her lips spread in a slow, wide smile.

"...Yeah, you are."

...And then of course, she realized their hands were still linked, and looked down blushing, hair flapping horribly in her face again. To her shock and awe, though, Steve was still grinning at her, and god almighty, was he blushing too?

"DARCY!" She had a split-second to react, before the Norse God of Thunder had her swept away from Captain America and into a crushing bear hug. "IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU!"

"...Missed you too, Thor," She managed to croak.

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	2. Chapter 2

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Aside from Thor and Dr. Banner, the Oompa-Loompas don't see much of the Avengers in their daily lives. Darcy figures there are some perks to this, as she's actually starting to learn something about what she now does for a living, and tall muscly men in sweet costumes...and, let's admit it, Black Widow's rack...are just all terribly distracting.

Plus there was the way Darcy suddenly felt a little creepy about keeping a sketch of Steve Rogers in her pocket, and bumping into him in the halls didn't help. He also smiled at her for just a touch too long, and what the hell was that about? Nothing equally creepy, Darcy was sure. This was Captain Freaking America, here, polite to the bone. He probably gave that smile to everyone working around him, she almost convinced herself. She knew that wasn't it, though, and only pretended to be raucously amused when Pepper suggested she sport the pencil skirt more often. Darcy Lewis, master of the thick shield of self-deprecating humor.

You don't let the smiles of a nice, studly, earnest guy mean anything to you, when you're a girl like Darcy. Especially not a national hero. She was cute, he was single in a Tower full of ridiculously good-looking couples, that's all it was. Tony would soon introduce him to some tall, leggy, not-weird, all-American girl at one of his big parties, and that would be that.

Still, Darcy couldn't bring herself to dig back up that box from Agent Carter's basement and tuck the drawing away. She kind of really liked that skinny kid with Cap's earnest face. He was a comforting image, even though she was pretty sure Steve was still that kid.

Also, there really weren't any of Tony Stark's famous, star-studded parties happening anymore. If famous people passed through the doors those days, they were either superheroes or heads of state, and when the booze was free-flowing within those walls, it was on a tv (and-nothing's-threatening-the-Earth) night. Darcy was a little disappointed by that, she had kinda been hoping to catch sight of Tom Cruise trying to convert Thor to Scientology.

It was actually a tv-night that dragged Darcy out of her self-imposed Avoid-Steve-Rogers-And-His-Pretty-Smile situation, overpowering her self-preservation skills by hitting her right in the empathy center of the brain.

Thor had loudly proclaimed earlier in the day that he wanted to 'learn about this vicious Game of Thrones Jane and Bruce keep discussing, and how it is played'. Thus, the evening changed from recorded episodes of Dancing With The Stars (all Tony), to Jane's Blue Ray collection.

The home theater room was massive, with a long bar breaking it up from a fancy, stainless-steel kitchenette, and it was on this Darcy leaned, watching over the heads of the super-audience plus Jane on the plush couches. She was still an assistant, after all, and while everyone was quite nice to her, the girl would never assume herself a member of the inner circle. And anyway, the screen was massive, and she'd watched it all before.

Soon, though, her attention was all on Steve, and the progressively more upset look on his face. Thor was into it from the first frame, attention fixed on the screen, while Steve's expression went from interested, to perplexed, to appalled. Tony, meanwhile, wouldn't shut up with a running commentary as he went through work on his iPad, until Natasha gave him a smack upside the head.

Darcy found herself trying to recall what passed, in Steve's day, for acceptable fantasy. All she really knew was that Narnia and Middle Earth had still been on the horizon. Not that there wasn't plenty presently on the screen that was taken from real medieval history but, well, the early 20th century didn't like to think about its sordid past, if she remembered certain college classes correctly. So when the first episode was over and folks started to filter out, she mustered herself and gave a nudge to the tall, unamused guy.

"Not your cup of tea, Cap?" She gave him a grin. Steve shook his head, wincing.

"Saw that, eh?" He leaned back against the counter across from her, oblivious to Pepper shoving Tony out the door before he could comment. Steve ran a hand through his hair, awkwardly. "I know I'm gonna sound like the wet blanket, again, but...who the hell was I supposed to be rooting for?"

Darcy laughed, tossing her hair from side to side as well, "That's it, you can never be sure, no one's totally evil or totally noble, and it'll drive you CRAZY," She bit her lip for a moment, watching him, "...Heroes and villains were a bit more clear-cut in back in the day, yeah?"

"Well, at least on screen."

"But not always in the real world," She surmised, and he nodded.

"But that's just it," He shoved up the sleeves of his shirt, crossing his arms over his chest, and Darcy willed herself not to stare at his forearms, "People always wanted to see the good guy win at the movies. The good guy rescues the dame before anything bad happens to her, all that..." He trailed off, and there was that stab to the empathy thing again. Darcy's expression softened.

"People still like that escapism, sometimes," She assured him, "More often these days though, they wanna see someone going through the same things they do, being imperfect like they are, and yet still being stronger maybe than they could be," He tilted his head, and she pushed on, her cheeks reddening a bit under his attentive eye, "You know. Sometimes in the real world, the hero doesn't rescue the dame in time," She smirks, "Sometimes she's gotta rescue herself, or learn how to live through the bad shit that's happened to her." He seemed to agree with that, though he was looking at her a bit more intently now. Darcy took a deep breath, steeling herself with a grin, "I mean, think about each and every person in this building. You're a freakin' hero, Cap. Saving babies from crumbling buildings and everything. Think you've got all your shit together?"

"Not even close," He answered automatically, a smirk on his lips. "I do see what you're saying, it's just..." And Darcy could practically read his mind, envisioning teenage girls married off to primitive warlords, and little boys shoved out of windows.

"Yeah, anything on HBO is a pretty extreme example of how people's tastes have changed since the 40's..." She hesitated for a long moment, before blurting out, "We should have our own tv nights." His eyebrows went up, "I mean I could ah. Ease you into the evolution of American cinema, or some shit." There was that damn wide, All-American grin again, it was going to end her one of these days.

"I'd love that, Miss. Lewis."

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"All right, I know I'm outta my depth, but I aint eight years old, Darcy."

It was the first time he'd said her first name, and she couldn't help grinning. They were leaning over the box that had been left for her in the home theater, the contents organized chronologically. When she'd first made her request known to Pepper, the woman had barely batted an eyelash, nodding and saying she'd 'Put in a call about getting stuff from the Vault'. Pepper had then had to put up with a star-struck, amazed Darcy Lewis, who kept asking her to confirm, again, that The Disney Vault actually existed and looked exactly like every kid thought it did.

"Hey, bear with me here," Darcy assured him, kneeling on the floor and scanning the brand new, glossy disc covers with a reverent touch, "Disney flicks transcend age! Also, if you want a simple, straight-forward crash-course in how attitudes have changed over the decades, these are your guide," She glanced up at him, "I even took a college course on it."

"You're pulling my leg."

"Hey, I went to school in California," She shrugged, as if that explained everything, and then shot him a coy look. "...And anyway, what was the last Disney flick YOU saw, and how old were you?" Steve Rogers, busted. He coughed, trying not to grin.

"...Pinocchio. I was...twenty-four," The grin escaped, and Darcy laughed out loud.

"Ha! See?" She deftly made a grab for 'Dumbo', and then stood, pulling him by the arm toward the massive wall of entertainment equipment. "Trust me, Cap. I've booked Thursday nights too, so you don't have to worry about anyone pickin' on you for watching 'kids movies'. Well..." She conceded, "Thor might show up once we get to Hercules, he heard Jane and I quoting it one day."

"There's one about Hercules?" He perked up, and Darcy grinned,

"Trust me, you're not there yet."

They settled in on the biggest couch directly in front of the screen, a full cushion apart from each other. Darcy had work with her, curling her legs up and absently transcribing Jane's notes onto an iPad resting on her knees, while Steve very contently allowed himself to be swept up in a familiar color palate, style of music, and simple story. They were mostly silent through the film...Darcy hated talking through movies, and was more than happy to find that Captain America couldn't stand running commentary either. His arm did end up resting across the back of the couch, and she was hyper-aware that his hand was totally in range of her hair. Thankfully, it was a short movie.

"All right," Darcy grinned, setting her work aside as Steve sat back against the cushions with a content smile, "First impressions."

"I dunno, it was still the Disney I knew," He shrugged, "...Though the er, being on display like a freakshow kinda hit close to home, Miss Lewis," He smirked, narrowing his eyes her way. Darcy laughed again, shaking her head.

"Not my intent!" She cried, and then nodded to the tv, "But yeah, this is called easing you in. I've got three points about this one. First off, Pink Elephants."

"That was funny."

"Ah! See," She grinned, "Totally seemed like a normal, silly kid scene to you, yeah?" He nodded, "You'd never see that shit in a kids movie nowadays," He blinked, "Drunkenness, the demon liquor!"

"But the whole point was that getting drunk makes you a fool," Steve pointed out, smirking, "Well. Unless you're me or an Asgardian, apparently," Darcy nodded.

"See, your generation would get that. Parents these days would start a shitstorm, writing angry emails and facebook posts to Disney," She had to grin again at the incredulous look on his face, "'My four year old thinks she'll see actual pink elephants if she gets into mommy's wine rack!' Parents expect their kids' movies and tv shows to do the parenting for them. Not all, mind you, Jane for instance had old-school parents who probably actually said, 'Yep, that's beer. Drink it before you're old enough, and I'll beat your ass!'"

"And yet I see teenagers out there..."

"And they've all got a substance problem and no boundaries," Darcy finished for him, grinning wide, "Take me for example. I was a hellion who learned about sex from the internet, and my mom barely told me enough about puberty to prep me for my period before it happened." Captain America was adorable when he blushed.

"...Right, so, beer in cartoons will begin to disappear, parents nowadays would rather sit their kids in front of the tv than talk with them," He surmised, "Second point?" Darcy just wanted to hug him.

"The crows," She started, and at his grimace, she could tell she probably didn't have to explain this one too much.

"Yeah those did bother me." He nodded, "That kind of thing bothered me back then too."

"That's a positive change anyway, racist shit like that doesn't -really- make it into films. I mean," She allows, "People will try to pick out the most vaguely racist things they can nowadays, something to complain about, and racism is as much an issue as ever, but on the whole..."

"You won't see obviously idiotic depictions like that, yeah," Steve wrinkled his nose, "I mean, I never did feel that differently about blacks and whites growing up...poor was poor no matter what color you were, in my experience," He smirked, "But being in the Army really made me notice stuff like that more." The corners of Darcy's lips teased upwards, despite herself.

"Damnit, you are SO Captain America," She murmured, making him look down at his hands, a touch bashful. She caught herself, sitting up straight, "And third point, something that'll span pretty much every animated Disney movie," She smiled, "Nobody gets to have both parents," Sleeping Beauty jumped to mind, then, "Well, at least not all the time."

"That's...kind of terrible," Steve looked up again, frowning, but Darcy's smile widened.

"Not actually, see," She turned toward him on the couch, "My professor explained that it's a universal thing that totally doesn't change over the decades, even when so many things do. Fucked up as they might be, kids get their stability, their identity, from their family. That you can still get an emotional, visceral reaction from a kid because something sad happened to their family, well," She realized how animated she was getting, and how his eyes were lighting up at her enthusiasm, and caught herself, biting her lip. "...I mean, that gives me hope for the whole messed up universe, right there."

"...Well, when you put it that way., s'really insightful..." Steve allowed, digesting that. And then he looked back at her sharply, raising a brow, "...And how did you end up working in the science lab at Stark Tower, and not a shrink's office somewhere?"

"I wanted to see scenic New Mexico," Darcy answered, not missing a beat. Captain America bust out laughing, and damnit, Darcy felt her armor crack just a wee bit.

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	3. Chapter 3

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The universe is pretty freaking amazing, Darcy thinks, the more she works where she does. It's also pretty freaking scary, the more baddies from other realms, planets, and sometimes just down the road show up. The realization that even superheroes can get the shit beat out of them puts her deeper into the inner circle, she muses, at least compared to the public outside who think nothing can hurt them as long as the Avengers are around. Sure, they're a thick, strong defense against the bads. But they're not -quite- indestructible.

This is painfully obvious the next time Thursday rolls around, and Darcy hears that Steve was sent straight to medical after that morning's tumble with evil. Strolling down a few floors and trying not to look as alarmed as she felt, Darcy followed the sound of doctors hemming and hawing over the finer points of treating a super-person, until she found her quarry propped up on pillows in a hospital bed.

"So I hear giant robots from space hit kinda hard," She said by way of greeting, hovering in the doorway. Turning his head with some difficulty, Steve gave her a smile.

"Like a hammer. No, worse," He corrected himself, motioning her in with the arm that wasn't in a cast, "I've been hit by a pretty impressive hammer before." Darcy slipped over to his bedside, resting an awkward hand on the edge of the blankets.

"What's the damage, Cap?" She murmured, looking him over. He was out of the suit, and there seemed to be casts...well, a lot of places.

"Right arm busted in three places, right leg in two, and half my ribs are broken." Darcy's eyes went wide. "...They think I'll be all right in a few days, though."

"Seriously?" Her brows went up about five miles, and Steve had to laugh, though it was with a tortured grimace.

"Don't envy me too much, sweetheart," He gasped, cringing more, "...Painkillers don't work on me, so..." On cue, a rib snapped back into place, and Darcy had to hand it to him, Captain America didn't yell. She almost did just from hearing the sound of bone on bone. As it was, she instinctively grabbed his good hand, letting him crush hers until the wave of pain subsided.

"Fuck. I'd have 'em put me in a coma," Darcy gulped, and he smirked back at her, still gripping her hand.

"Tony offered a knock to the head with my own shield," He chuckled, "Spent enough of my life sleeping, though."

"Which reminds me," Darcy squeezed his hand before letting go, reaching into the tote on her arm and pulling out a disc, "We've got a movie to watch." There was that smile again.

"I was hoping. Gonna be boring down here...hell I can't even draw like this." He looked at his unharmed left arm ruefully. Darcy moved across the room to where a flat screen hung...not nearly as large as the one upstairs but still almost as tall as she was. Apparently Tony Stark didn't believe in anything smaller than a Buick when it came to televisions.

"I live to entertain!" She said grandly, trying to sound far more carefree than she felt. It was just...damnit, he was Captain America. He wasn't supposed to be bedridden, ever, even if it was for a few days of super-healing. At least, she told herself it was because he was a hero. Not because seeing him laid up was doing something weird and twisty to her chest.

"What's on the syllabus for today, Professor?" He asked as she perched on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the remote for a few moments.

"Sleeping Beauty," She grinned, turning on the screen, "Between this and Dumbo there was also Cinderella, but it's a pretty standard telling with some talking mice. Also there was Alice in Wonderland, but I figure your head has taken enough punishment today."

"...So the circus freak, followed by the gal who sleeps for a hundred years?" He gave her a flat look, and she turned bright red...until his face cracked and he started grinning. Darcy narrowed her eyes, giving his good arm a smack.

"Hey there Cap, you're the one comparing yourself to a baby elephant and a pretty pretty princess, not me."

This time there's a different sort of look in Steve's eye as the story goes along, and Darcy notices it most when there's a long panning over the forests. Without work to do she has more chance to watch him, and she realizes that he's looking at this particular film with an artists' attention to detail. Darcy does have to admit, as a sort-of grownup, it's easy to see what a singularly beautiful movie it is. No other Disney movie really looked like it ever again.

Of course, they didn't get to entirely relax. Steve would spasm no less than four times over the course of the movie, once so badly that Darcy had to leap out of the way so Thor and another burly agent could hold the poor guy down through his femur knitting back together. Darcy was, frankly, scared shitless for him, even if rationally, she knew it was okay. She forgot all about being a stone cold fox when it was over, grabbing his hand once more as soon as she could sit beside him again.

"Waterhouse," Steve muses, as the credits finally roll, and Darcy turns to him, frowning in confusion as she slips her hand out of his grip. He shakes his head, smiling tiredly, "And other romantic painters, the animators must've been inspired by them."

"Yeah?" She grins back, softly, "You'd know more about that than me. Always did think it was pretty though."

"Very," He sighs "So, which deep lessons about society should I have learned?" Darcy shook her head,

"I'll go easy on you this time," She winks, "...Though it is worth noting that like, this was the first movie where the Prince was an actual person, not just some dude without a personality who's just there to save the girl."

"That did bug me about Snow White," Steve pauses, and then winces, grinning, "Actually no, my pal Bucky completely ruined it for me by asking 'Why the hell would she go with some strange guy who's got a thing for kissing corpses?' Jerk." Darcy laughs.

"It's a valid question, though!" She bites her lip, "But yeah, Prince Philip will like, always be an animated crush. I mean sure, he still saves her useless butt, but he totally wasn't cool on having his marriage arranged either. Crazy kids just had a happy accident, and he got the pretty blonde he actually wanted."

"Always preferred brunettes myself," Steve notes, bluntly, and Darcy feels her ears warm. "..That pretty-boy wouldn't have gotten ten feet outta that dungeon without the fairies, though," He points out, a touch smarmy, and Darcy has to grin again.

"That's my faaaavorite part about the whole thing!" She divulges, "Who -actually- defeats the seriously over-sensitive bitch with a grudge? Three old biddies and their flowery rainbow magic, Philip wouldn't have even had a sword unless Aunty Flora knit him one." Steve laughs.

"It's true, wow," He shakes his head, and the turns it toward her on his pillow. "...Thanks for coming down here." Darcy looks down at her lap, shrugging.

"Couldn't have you missing class," She bites her lip, looking up at him again, "...I feel bad leaving you down here though."

"Eh, I'll be fine," He sighs, shutting his eyes, "Just a couple days of torture." Darcy reaches for his hand again, squeezing it tight.

"...Don't scare me like that again, Cap."

"...No promises."

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	4. Chapter 4

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"Are you dating the Cap?"

"I buh-heg your pardon?" Darcy looked up from her laptop, over the top of her glasses to arch a brow at Jane. The physicist rolled her eyes right back.

"You've got a standing movie date with the man, it's not that strange of a question Darcy." Jane points out, flitting around the lab. It was just the two of them at the moment, Erik and Bruce testing some gadget or other on a different floor. Though distracted by work, Jane had clearly been waiting for this moment to pounce. Darcy shook her head, dipping down until her face was hidden by ropes of long hair.

"I am giving Cap'n Tightpants a crash course in modern cinema, courtesy of Disney," She sniped, "After SOMEBODY traumatized the poor dude with Lannister incest."

"Hey, everybody else wanted to watch it," Jane turned around in place three times, before spotting the notebook she was looking for and plucking it up. "I'm sure it's SUCH a burden too, schooling Steve Rogers." She smirked. Darcy winced.

"Seriously, nothing's going on there, it's freakin' Captain America, Jane. There's going to be some like, gorgeous, corn-fed super-model in the guy's future, not an oompa-loompa." Darcy sounded a little too unconcerned not to be faking it though, and she knew it, "It'd be unpatriotic of me to get in the way of their tall gorgeous super-offspring."

"Hey, I'm an oompa-loompa, and I'm shacked up with freakin' Thor, these things...happen." Jane gave her a sharp look. Darcy found herself squirming under the scrutiny, "He -stares- at you, too. You're kind of adorable, you know."

"I can't...entertain that thought," Darcy's fingers went twitchy, and her attention was suddenly fixed on the screen. "Hot, famous dude, just. Nope. Always bad news, always." A crease appeared between her boss' brows.

"...Darce, it's Steve, he's one of the nicest guys I've ever met..."

"Exactly!" She blurted out, and then winced, letting out a frustrated sound, "Just. Do you KNOW about the last woman he was in love with?! She searched for him for -70 fucking years-, Jane. Until she -died-. Who can hold a candle to that shit?!" Darcy realized she was rambling, her tone climbing in a way that a girl who totally didn't dig a guy wouldn't. She groaned, busted, "...I can't subject a nice dude to me, Jane, not after he was loved like that."

"...You're an idiot," Jane told her after a moment, reaching over to pat her assistant's head gently.

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All of Steve's limbs are in working order long before a week passes. Still, Darcy can't help glancing over at him across the couch every now and then, half-expecting the man to be cringing in pain. But no, his arms and legs look perfectly normal, and looking at his chest ('Good lord, does the man ever NOT look good in a t-shirt?') one would never guess that a week ago, he'd had a few jagged, broken ribs poking out of it.

"I always wanted a dog," He smiled ruefully as the credits rolled on 101 Dalmations.

"You never had one?" Darcy turned her head, brows lifting in surprise. She didn't have work with her, but her arms had been firmly crossed over her middle, hands safely under her control. Steve shook his head.

"New York City, and pretty poor my whole life, so nope," He blinks, "...Though I guess I've got no excuse not to find myself one now." His grin was damn near infectious. Darcy returned it.

"Aww, we could have a super-dog running around the tower! Make it happen, Cap!" He gave her a wee salute in reply. "So you liked this one?"

"It was cute...we're in the 60s now, yeah?" Darcy nodded.

"Mmm, and nothing is more telling of the times than having an emaciated fashion diva as your main villain," She grinned, "Cruella is kind of one of the most iconic Disney Villains like, ever."

"Puppy-skin coats is pretty dark," He frowns for a moment, "...I liked Roger though, an every-guy for a change, instead of all these damn princes."

"Mmm, I saw that look on your face during the park scene, y'old softie," She teased, and Steve shrugged, grinning, "That's a point though, one of the first couples who were both fully realized characters and had a perfectly happy, equal life together! Yanno. Until someone stole the dogs. Plus you just know Anita was a pistol in the sack, all mild-mannered and British."

"...I was about to comment on the wholesomeness, too."

"My mind is a dirty, wrong place, Steve," Darcy bit her lip then, her smile fading, "Speaking of mush, though. I um. Have something for you."

He blinked, and she quickly stood, moving around the couch and picking up the musty old box she'd managed to track down again. Setting it between them on the cushions, Darcy suddenly became very interested in the texture of her own jeans, listening to him pull the top off the box. "I honestly don't know how it ended up here, they've been digging up anything and everything 'Avenger' and sending it here, I guess, but..." She trailed off, as he slowly moved to pick through the contents of Peggy Carter's treasure trove.

"...She never stopped," Steve murmured, quietly, and Darcy chanced a look at him through her hair. There was an awed, yet sad smile on his face as he turned over the files, memorabilia, and old maps covered with markers, "She always knew I'd come back..." When he came upon the pictures of himself, pre-serum, Darcy saw that he had to swallow hard, tracing the lipstick mark with a finger.

"...There's a bundle of unsent letters she wrote you, after," Darcy said quietly, not entirely sure she'd done the right thing,"I found 'em in there today, didn't read 'em though." He looked up at her though, grinning wide, and Darcy felt her insides flop around.

"Can't tell you Darcy, what this means to me." He told her earnestly. She shrugged, smiling back as she stood up.

"Don't mention it. I'll leave you two crazy kids alone," She said, moving to go. Steve caught her wrist as she passed though, looking up to catch her eye.

"Thank you, really," He murmured. Darcy gulped, as he turned her hand over to kiss the inside of her wrist. She just barely managed to get her armor up in time.

"Sweet talker, Cap," She winked, slipping out of his grasp carefully and moving toward the elevators, a hand slipping into the pocket of her cardigan, touching the folded sketch that remained in her possession. 'Damnit, damnit, damnit, Darcy...'

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	5. Chapter 5

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It's strange how much Darcy finds herself thinking about Disney movies, right before she's about to die. It could be that the last couple of movie nights with Steve have been about heroes, anti-heroes, and what makes them such. Darcy isn't a hero. She lives and works in a Tower full of them, which is how she knows she isn't one. She has no exceptional powers, or talent for violence, and while she's smart, she's nowhere near Tony Stark level.

Still, when the giant beast controlled by the guy who has half the Avengers distracted starts lumbering, full-tilt, toward where Jane is pinned under a fallen portion of the roof, Darcy doesn't even stop to think, though she does reach into her pocket to clutch her paper talisman, that skinny kid who became a superhero, before she acts. She jumps up from the floor of their ruined lab, and launches herself at the monster. She doesn't know what she's going to do, how on Earth she's going to make this situation better. But the villain controlling this thing has a grudge against Thor, and if she dies distracting it from Jane...Darcy doesn't know why it makes sense, in that moment. It just does.

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The 60s had passed uneventfully. There wasn't a whole lot that was earth-shattering, except that The Jungle Book presented some more cultural diversity, and The Sword In The Stone was just plain awesome. The 70s opened with Robin Hood, though, and Darcy practically had a whole book written on the subject by the time they got there.

"Right, so like, the 70s were full of anti-heroes, so of -course- it's when they adapted Robin Hood," She was explaining, absently rubbing the belly of the mutt on the couch between them.

"Define the term for me?" Steve looked especially studious on this point, Darcy had his full attention. Between them, Volstagg (Thor's buddy had made a good impression on Cap a few weeks back) wanted a bit more of it, licking Steve's hand.

"Well...it's more like he's not perfect? Someone who knows that the status quo is fucked. He becomes a good guy by accident more often than not, cause even if he's flawed and jaded, or has a chip on his shoulder, he does have his own moral core," She smirks, "Tony, for example, walks the line. Robin Hood is a classic. The 70s also had Taxi Driver, Han Solo in Star Wars...Batman started going a little dark, too."

"All right," Steve nodded, as it sank in, "So the more relate-able protagonists. Why so many in the 70s, though?" Darcy shrugged,

"Well, in the 40s there was you," She smiled, "Really, honestly good...at least that's how the public saw you!" She added before he could protest, her smile gone mischievous, "And we were fighting a war that made absolute sense, against an absolutely bad dude. The 50s were more paranoid, cold war, you've learned all that shit. Heroes became -stiflingly- good. Too white-washed, too bleached. And then the 60s and the peace-and-love generation, and Vietnam," She bit her lip. He was getting his history lessons elsewhere, and she could tell he'd been over that particular war, shaking his head, "In the 70s the war was over, yeah, but so was that super-optimistic, hippie dream," She shrugged, "In the 80s there'd be new dreams and shit, but the 70s were kinda...culturally jaded, across the board. We rooted for the scruffy guy with a drinking problem who still looked out for the little guy."

"So, the Batmen," Cap surmised, grinning, "...Though of course, the cartoon fox was still pretty wholesome."

"Except for technically being an outlaw, yeah." She grinned. Volstagg-The-Dog barked.

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It happens in slow-motion. Darcy slams into the side of the scaly, Hummer-sized beast that's been let loose in the tower, bouncing off his hide and landing hard on her rear. She succeeds in distracting it from Jane's prone form, and now it turns it's giant, dumb head toward Darcy, who swallows, shuffling backwards through the rubble, clutching an old drawing in her hand. Distantly, she can hear the real battle happening a floor above them, the real heroes taking out the real villain. Jane is screaming at her, then screaming for Thor, Hulk, anyone. Darcy herself is weirdly calm, hard as her heart is pounding in her ears. She's probably going to die here shortly.

But for some reason, as long as she can keep it away from Jane, as long as her boss and Thor can live happily ever after and have weird, half-Norse-alien babies someday, Darcy's okay with that.

"Yeah! Yeah, come and fuck with someone SLIGHTLY BIGGER, you ugly cunt!" She yells, and sure enough, beasty dives for her. Her biggest regret, though, as she's grabbed, throttled, and tossed across the room, broken glass slicing open her torso when she lands, is that she and Steve didn't make it to Beauty & The Beast...

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"In honor of our new buddy!" Darcy had said, when they got to The Fox & The Hound. Part terrier, part hound dog, part something that might be a corgi, Volstagg is a perky mutt, and after Steve, Darcy has become his favorite human. She insists it's only because she shares her lunch with him, Steve maintains it's because the dog has good taste all around.

"I swear, you're on a mission, and it's to make Captain America cry," He'd grumbled good-naturedly, swiping at his eyes. Darcy had to bite her lip, watching him reach over and grab his dog, scruffing his neck affectionately.

"You've had enough -actual- sad shit happen to you hun, I figure something as heartwarming as a dog and his fox buddy is a nice escape." It's a blunt statement, but she's already realized that Steve gets sick of how overly-careful people are to him, regarding his past (Pepper, Bruce, half the world), or outright dickish (Tony). Darcy has hit the mark of just talking to him as if being frozen for 70 years happens to a lot of people these days.

"Point taken," He looked up from Volstagg, watching her face, "You said this was a favorite?"

"One of 'em, yeah," Her smile was soft then, "I loved it as a kid... I liked a lot of movies about best friends," She chuckled, "I mean, I was a pretty lonely kid. The idea of someone loving you enough, as a buddy, to stand in front of a gun for you? Kid's flick or not, that's pretty awesome."

"Trust me," He gave her a warm, somewhat sheepish smile, "...We do what we do, I get uncomfortable when people make a big deal, but. It is a pretty awesome experience, when it's your best friend. I'll brag about saving my best friend's life 'til the day I die." Steve paused though...and Darcy knew he was remembering the one time he wasn't able to. Volstagg licked his face.

"I'm just proud on a day when I get Jane to eat real food," She reached over, squeezing his shoulder.

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Later, they'll tell her all about how it ended. About how Bruce, as the Other Guy, dropped down through the hole in the ceiling, tore the beasty in half, and tossed what was left of it outside, to join its summoner as a grease-spot on the ground. How they'd only barely gotten her down to medical in time, and how there wasn't any white left in Cap's uniform once they did. She'd lost half her blood either on him or various busted up floors in Stark Tower. He'd even held in a couple of her major organs with his own hands.

She was in surgery for hours. The S.H.I.E.L.D doctors weren't able to get Jane to sit still long enough to put a cast on her leg, not until Darcy was declared out of the woods. Until then, Steve and Jane were sentinels outside the high-tech, glossy operating room, one with a leg she couldn't stand on, the other leaving a puddle of blood under his chair. When Darcy, looking like a pile of tubes, bloody bandages, and a mop of long brown hair, was finally wheeled out of surgery, Steve finally changed his clothes.

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Waking up, Darcy was pretty sure she was suffering from the world's worst hangover. Her throat was aching and dry, and her head hurt like hell, these were normal. The stabbing and itching pains in her stomach, chest, her right thigh, and both arms were new, and opening her eyes, she noted that this was certainly not her apartment's ceiling. In fact, it looked exactly like the ceiling in the room they'd put Steve in, after the giant space robots. It all started coming back to her then, along with a fresh wave of vertigo, and she shut her eyes tightly, groaning.

"Darcy?" His voice is soft, low, and the most welcomed sound in the world, even if she can't bring herself to open her eyes again yet. She feels his fingers brushing her face, and sighs.

"Too bright in here," She rasps, and like magic, the harsh lights dim. Peeking, Darcy sees that Steve has his other hand on a switch by her bed. She also sees that he's clearly been sleeping in the chair nearby, and probably hasn't brushed his hair in days. "...Hey there, good lookin'." She tries to smile at him.

"Don't talk yet," He murmurs, reaching toward the small table beside the bed, "You had one of those...tube things down your throat, Bruce said you'd be thirsty," He brings a glass of water with a straw up to her lips, and Darcy takes a long drink.

"Mmmph, bless you," She says a bit easier, and then the two of them are just...staring at each other. Darcy like he's the most glorious sight she's ever seen, Steve like he can't believe she's actually there, alive, breathing. His free hand goes to her face again, tracing what she realized must be a cut under her eye.

"YOU DIDN'T CALL ME!" Someone yells from the hall, and Darcy groans again, while Steve chuckles. Jane Foster, Mood Killer, M.D. Hobbling into the room as fast as her crutches can carry her, the tiny scientist elbows Steve out of the way, leaning over her assistant, "JARVIS had to! Darcy that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone without superpowers do! Why the hell..."

"I just did," Darcy croaks, wetting her cracked lips, "You were trapped and the fugly thing was going for you, so..."

"What did you think was gonna happen?!"

"...Distract it from you long enough for someone muscly to show up?" Darcy grins, knowing she looks like death warmed up, and Steve runs a hand over his face. Jane just stares at her for a long moment, before gathering her up, carefully, awkwardly, into a tight hug, and starts crying. Darcy shuts her eyes tight, willing herself not to, but, well, tears escape anyway.

"You DIED on the table, Darce, TWICE."

"Hey, you're my homegirl," She gulps, face crumpling when she makes the mistake of looking at Steve over Jane's shoulder. Darcy takes a shuddering breath, and then gasps out a laugh, "And hell, this better have earned me like, maaaad Maid of Honor privileges if you end up marrying that He-Man and having a royal-ass wedding in outer space. I'm talking fucking Galadriel dress and everything."

Jane joins her in hysterical, ridiculous laughter. Steve is content to wait his turn.

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"She's not wrong, you know," He murmurs to her that evening, as she eats her jello and they both settle in to watch The Black Cauldron in her room. Nothing much has changed between them, and yet everything has. Darcy's traded in most of her hospital pillows for Captain America's torso. She's still got a concussion, nearly every limb is black and blue and covered in stitches, and much of her insides were recently rearranged when she crashed through an already-broken glass table. No one feels all right leaving her alone just yet, and that's just fine by Steve. For her part, Darcy doesn't want him out of her sight, and is beyond being scared of that impulse...at least for now. Plus, there's no way she's giving up the morphine drip yet.

"That I was stupid? I know," She replies, one fist gathered tightly in his shirt. Above her, she feels him shaking his head.

"S'my kind of stupid, though," He brushes a hand through her hair, "Used to draw bullies off other folks all the time, back before the serum." Darcy blinked, hazy and slow, turning her head to look up at him.

"...You were so small though," She murmurs back before she can stop herself. Steve doesn't look surprised that she'd know, though. In fact...he smiles, slowly shifting so he can reach into the pocket of his jeans, drawing out a crumpled up piece of paper. Darcy shuts her eyes again, tightly. "...Shit."

"Yeah, you were clutching this pretty tight, even after you lost consciousness," He smooths out the drawing, which now sports a few small bloodstains. "Where did you..."

"Agent Carter's things," She admits in a whisper, "I just." Praise Thor for morphine, she thinks, giving her drip a small squeeze, and sighing. "Before I met you, I found it and...he seemed like a real nice guy. After...I mean, I..." Words, why were they so difficult? Steve surprised her, though.

"...I like that you've kept it," He clears his throat. "I was just teaching myself portrait-drawing, that day...but why a picture of me from bef-.."

"Because you're still him." She blurts out. And then turns, burying her face in his shirt. The hand in her hair clutches her closer. There's more to say, there always is. Someday she'll tell him she fell in love with him, a little bit, the first time she found that sketch. That she wanted to know if it messed with his head, that no one else alive remembered and loved him as that skinny, asthmatic, good-hearted man. That every time he looks at her with those same eyes she fell for, all she wants to do is tell him how much better, brighter, smarter, more beautiful a girl he'd earned than her. It'll happen, later. But tonight, she admits to what's most prudent. "...I kinda wanna be like that guy."

"I kinda think you already are, sweetheart..." He kisses the top of her head.

Director Fury still doesn't feel good about the decision to keep a couple of high-powered, futuristic weapons down in the science labs, available to civilians. However, when he's got all six Avengers unanimously pushing the matter, he figures he can pencil it into the budget.

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	6. Chapter 6

((Some Steve POV for ya!))

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It started, as most things do, with a boom. Steve knows that much of Jane Foster's research involves opening wormholes, and that they lead to many places, one of them being Asgard, where Thor comes from. Others lead to paradises, some to places not that different from Earth. And a few lead to realms that pretty much hate Thor and his fathers' guts. There's been talk that maybe the Tower isn't the best place for such experiments, but then almost everyone agrees, if someone opens a gate to somewhere bad, wouldn't you want your first line of defense right on hand? Today happens to be a day when that line comes in handy.

"Pep's not gonna be happy, she just got someone in to wax these floors," Tony's voice issues from behind his mask, as the Sorcerer's scaly talons scrape on the marble in the next room, one of Bruce's stock rooms full of odd chemicals Steve would rather avoid most days. This Villain's a magician in the school of Loki, Thor has informed them, able to copy himself and send shadow clones all over the place, wrecking havoc and engaging agents, along with three giant pets he's called the Gron, which Hulk has gone after. The Sorcerer's very nearly succeeded in separating all six of them with his clones, until Stark notices that this copy is the only one leaving claw marks on the floor.

"Capsicle..."

"Already there," Steve smirks, diving into the room with shield held high, ignoring the shadow copy that's been trying to engage them. With the real deal distracted and trying to curse Steve, Tony moves in behind the Cap, blasting the Sorcerer's face off with a raised palm. Behind them, the copy disappears.

"Shiny," Iron Man looks around, rumblings and shouts still echoing through the half-ruined floor. "...His pets down yet?"

"We've killed two," Clint's voice registers, as he appears from somewhere in the ceiling, landing on the balls of his feet, Thor swinging down behind him. Natasha climbs toward them through a wrecked wall, Bruce at her heels, "Or Hulk did, we've been chasing shadows and feeling like idiots..."

At that moment, one floor below them, they hear Jane Foster screaming for someone, anyone to come help, and Darcy Lewis taunting a monster from outer space.

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The first time he saw her was like spotting a piece of home. Darcy Lewis was built and dressed as if she belonged in another time, and while gals like Pepper Potts and Agent Hill were classy in their way, something about that girl smiling at him on the helipad had put Steve completely at his ease, and at the same time made his heart flip like some soppy movie from his day.

Of course, then she'd opened her mouth.

Darcy Lewis cursed like a soldier, spoke mostly in pop culture references, was emotionally avoidant to a degree that made JARVIS seem more human at times, and when she wasn't in the skirt and heels she was usually hidden under a few dozen layers of jeans and scarves, cardigans and high-tops. Darcy was a good worker but almost always got people's coffee orders wrong if they weren't Jane, chewed on her nails, chewed on her bottom lip, and couldn't carry a tune to save her life.

She also smiled at him in a way she smiled at no one else. She wasn't an agent, but she was still tough, going toe-to-toe with Tony and bossing around a Norse god. Her lips were full and her hair was long and she was one of the very few people who was neither telling him to 'suck it up and get with the times', nor treating him like he was a poor kicked puppy to be pitied. And every time Darcy looked him in the eye, Steve got the feeling that she was searching for something. And he was hooked.

Captain America has picked up that dames generally move a lot faster these days which, hey, good for them. He never got why it was all on the guy back in his day, though he admits that part of his thinking might be due to the fact that he could barely talk to girls anyway. Peggy had been forward for the times, though, and so was Darcy...except when it came to this, whatever it was. She likes him. He might be oblivious with almost no experience with gals, but even Captain America isn't blind. Still she holds herself back, protectively, and he wants to know why. Steve's more than patient, though, and is content to wait on her...

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...Until the day she's lying on the floor, bleeding everywhere, her limbs twitching, glass and metal poking through her torso. Then Steve is wishing that he'd at least kissed her, told her in no uncertain words that he's crazy about her.

"Darcy? Darcy can you hear me?!" He shoves off his cowl, pressing two fingers to her neck, where her pulse is weak and unsteady, but there. Distantly, the sound of Hulk roaring as he tears the Gron in two registers, "WE NEED MEDICAL UP HERE!" Cap shouts, picking her up and cradling her on one arm, pressing down hard on her stomach with his other hand to stall the bleeding. The blood is everywhere...it's too much, from too many places, and Steve finds that he's heaving for breath just looking at her.

"No time, and the elevators are off, JARVIS tell 'em we're coming," Tony says sharply, as Thor tosses a protesting, flailing Jane over his shoulder, and warms up his hammer to fly her down. "Give her here Cap, I'll fl-...or, do that." Stark sighs, as Steve simply starts leaping downwards through the ruined floors himself, toward their medical team.

"Hrmm," Darcy stirs in his arms once, and Steve gasps, looking down at her. "Ow..."

"Darcy? Sweetheart, stay with me, all right?" He hits the right floor and starts running, as she sputters, delirious and pale.

"Caaaause I got sunshine," She starts sing-songing, and Steve figures it has to be some sort of good sign, "On a clooooudy day...when it's cold...outside..." She chokes, twitching again in his arms, blood on her lips as she slips into unconsciousness once more.

"No, no, hang on baby, just..." He sets her on the waiting table, and then it's all three pretty burly SHIELD doctors can do to push him out of the operating room. Jane's already outside, propped up by Thor, but Steve's barely aware of them, eyes fixed on the small windows in the doors, as a crowd of people hook his gal up to machines, bags of blood, cut her clothes off and start trying to put her flesh back together.

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"Sit," Thor tells him, resting a hand on his shoulder and tugging him to a seat without much resistance, "You needn't watch such things, my friend."

Steve looks down, at the puddle of blood growing around his feet. All hers. He tilts forward, elbows on his knees, head in his gloved hands. 'Not her,' is all he can think, 'Not again.'

Because damnit all, he doesn't care if its a selfish thought, he's already lost too many people. Everyone, even. He couldn't save Bucky, Peggy lived a long time but still died without him, even Howard Goddamn Stark is dead now, but Darcy was alive. Darcy, who gave him a box full of Peggy's things, who was catching him up on the world. Darcy, with her big, grey-blue eyes and smile that did all kinds of things to him.

"Her clothes," A nurse was saying, handing a plastic bag to Jane, who still won't leave to get her leg set and in a cast. Steve looks over, and the bag has far too much red in it, "Also she was holding onto this pretty tightly, until we sedated her." The nurse hands a crumpled piece of paper to Jane, and after a moment, the scientist reaches over and presses it into Steve's hand.

Smoothing the drawing on a clean patch of his uniform, Steve is met with his own face staring back at him, from before he'd been given the serum. He remembers this sketch, peering thoughtfully into the small mirror he used for shaving, trying to figure out just how the parts of the human face worked with each other. Where had she found it? Why had she...?

Steve held it between his folded hands, bringing them to his forehead and shutting his eyes tight.

The next few hours are hell. The first time he hears the machines flat-lining, Thor has to physically hold him back from rushing in. The second time, Steve simply slumps in his seat, eyes on the ceiling, willing whomever is still looking after him after all this time to spare a glance for her as well. That's the moment when she steadies again, and Darcy remains steady until they finally roll her out of the operating room.

"She's out of the woods," Bruce assures him, cleaning his hands as he leaves the room behind her gurney. Steve doesn't even remember when he'd changed back and joined the doctors, "They're gonna watch her closely though, her insides got torn up pretty badly." Dr. Banner looks him up and down, as Steve stands to follow her, stopping him with a hand to the chest, "...You're kind of a mess, man." Steve looks down at himself, his ruined, bloody uniform.

"...Right, shower first."

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Steve looks at the drawing a lot, over the next few days. Considering that he does almost nothing besides sit vigil by Darcy's hospital bed, he's got a lot of time to do so. He tries watching terrible daytime television, or reading, but it always seems to come back to that old sketch, and wondering why she carried it with her. If she'd wanted a picture of him, they were everywhere. Why this one? Had she wanted to keep something he'd made himself? Or an image of him no one else likely had?

He's got to admit, he likes both of those possibilities. Now if only she'd wake up.

Her color's gotten better, and most of the bruises on her face are yellowing, though her arms and legs are still various shades of purple. Her stitches are meticulously cleaned every day by a nurse, and none of them get infected. Bruce says it was a miracle that most of her major organs weren't hurt, though notes that a few things still didn't make it. Steve doesn't ask what he means by that, a Lady's guts seem like they should be her own business, and she's alive and breathing, whatever other damage had been done. Still she sleeps, though, and as long as she does, Steve can't.

"Bruce said you hadn't left," Pepper Potts' voice starts him out of a half-waking dream, sitting up in his chair and shaking his head as the woman looks him over, rumpled shirt, jeans, and unkempt hair. "...I brought you a bed." She smiles, dropping the bundle of blankets and a pillow on his legs.

"Thank you, mam, but I'm not doing much sleeping," Steve admits, though he does gratefully pluck up the pillow and tuck it behind his neck. Pepper just nods, moving to look at Darcy, brushing strands of long brown hair out of her face.

"I understand," She replies, earnestly. "Well...I worry daily about a man in full armor, so maybe it's not quite the same."

"Maybe," Steve winced, reaching up to rub his eyes again, willing himself awake. Super soldier or not, even he would have to sleep eventually, he knew. "I know it's her job but having her in the middle of things like that...I mean, least we were here."

"Get her a gun," Pepper says decidedly, turning and giving him a smile. "You love her. That's wonderful, Steve." He looks down at his knees, shaking his head, his ears warming.

"She's a pistol," He smirks, but when he looks back up at her, there's a sadness in his weary eyes and he knows it. "She's not making it easy, though. Even after all this, I'm not sure she'll..." He trails off, sighing, eyes back on his girl, and her chest that still moves up and down with her precious breath. Pepper nods again, quiet for a moment.

"Us pistols learn early how to have thick skin, Cap," She finally tells him, "We've got hearts like any other girl, a secret, soft place that just wants someone to see us, and love what they see." She snorts, "But to hand that over to something as graceless as a man, how stupid is that?" Steve frowns, but she winks at him. "And a man who's handsome and loved by the whole world can seem like the most dangerous kind of all. Don't worry, though," She moves to go, patting his arm as she passes, and he starts to get what she's saying, "You're no Tony Stark, and she's no me. She'll come around."

When the door closes behind Pepper, Steve waits for a moment, and then scoots his chair closer to Darcy's bed. Leaning back, covering his legs with a blanket and reaching to take her hand, mindful of the IV sticking out of it as he laces their fingers together, he figures maybe she'll be all right if he sleeps for a little while. But only a very little while.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Not being a superhero and all, it's a while before Darcy's back on her feet. Miraculously, aside from some ribs she didn't break any bones, having lost consciousness mid-air and landing like a rag doll on the glass table. Major surgery and blood loss, however, can really take it out of a girl, she discovers. Her stitches itch at best, knitting flesh aches, and though she knows she's getting top-notch medical care, Darcy is forced to accept that she'll be left with some gnarly scars.

"I once had a teddy-bear that got disemboweled by our neighbor's German Shepherd," She says ruefully to Steve one day, tugging up her shirt and looking at the angry red seams across her stomach. "Looked about the same once mom was done with him." Steve doesn't answer, just yanks her over on the couch to wrap his arms around her.

He doesn't stop hovering. In fact, Captain America is kind of clingy, and Darcy doesn't even try to pretend it bothers her. It doesn't take her long to understand, at least to a stubborn, platonic level. She's become his closest friend, and Steve has really bad luck when it comes to the people close to him. He almost never sleeps, which she only knows because Jane tells her. Darcy sleeps all the time, mostly on the couch in the home theater, between pain killers and just plain letting herself heal. Apparently Steve has barely slept at all since she left the hospital, keeping watch over her.

Darcy tries to imagine how awful it had to be, wondering if the next time you shut your eyes, everyone you loved would be gone when you woke up. Again.

Steve isn't the only one who hovers, though. Bruce brings up her laptop and work to transcribe, when he hears she's feeling bored and useless. Tony asks if she plays video games, Darcy laughs and says not since the Nintendo64. Within an hour, one is sent up to her (new in the box, never used, how does he DO that?), along with a box filled with games. By dinnertime, she and Clint have taught Steve how to play Mario Kart. Natasha gives her the stats on the ridiculously big guns now living under her desk in the lab, and promises to give her and Jane lessons on how to shoot the damn things once Darcy's cleared to go back to work. And once someone explains the concept of get-well-gifts to Thor, he swamps Darcy with presents.

"I know I saved his girlfriend, but you'd think everyone else would be way too busy putting the Tower back together," Darcy notes to Pepper Potts, when the woman stops by to give her the latest screened email from her parents (who only know that their daughter is working for the government now, and had a 'minor' lab accident). Moving aside a gigantic bouquet of roses to see Darcy properly, Peppers' smile softens.

"They've gotten attached to their oompa-loompas," She replies, fondly, and then sighs, "Also...well. Phil." She murmurs, and Darcy understands right away, in fact it hits her hard in the chest, her lips parting in an 'oh'. "Agent Coulson might have been a trained S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and a damn good one, but against Loki, well. I think they still consider him a civilian they failed to save." She smiled again, "They saved you and Dr. Foster, though. Big victory for these crazy kids, but you were still hurt. Even a hardass like Natasha doesn't like that someone innocent got hurt."

"...Corny, but, it really is nice to know that it's people like that who are looking after us, yeah?"

"Definitely," And then Pepper just had to add on, "And of course, you know, Steve's in love with you."

Darcy groaned, reaching for her meds.

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She was hardly able to sit up for 'Oliver & Company', but by the time 'A Little Mermaid' rolls around Darcy's up and walking around again. This doesn't keep Steve from telling her not to, though.

"Don't you have worlds to save?" She grumbles good-naturedly, after he insists on being the one to stand, put in the movie, make the popcorn, and generally keep her couch-bound, with Volstagg in her lap. Now he's carrying their empty popcorn bowls back to the kitchenette, having swiped them from her before she could even rise.

"Nope, tonight I've got class," He replies brightly. "What've you got for me, professor?" Darcy couldn't help herself, burying her smile in a throw pillow.

"Well, welcome to the 90's Cap, decade of the Rebellious Princess. Ariel paved the way,"

"It was a little refreshing to see a dame with some backbone, yeah," He comes back around the couch, pulling her to his side carefully, Volstagg-the-mutt taking the opportunity to flop across the both of them. They're platonic snuggling, Darcy tells herself, but frankly Steve enjoys smelling her hair a bit too much for her to maintain her delusions. She shuts her eyes, humming quietly.

"Granted, she was a bit of a brat-princess, but so were most 90s kids," She murmurs. Has Cap started wearing cologne? Nope, that's just good old-fashioned soap. He even makes soap smell sexy and handsome, damnit. "Just look at me," Darcy grins. "Also, Ariel kicks off the trio of especially boobtastic Disney Princesses, to be followed by Belle and Jasmin." Steve pauses in the act of being adorable, blinking.

"...The shells -were- tiny."

"Unrealistic rack expectations for a little girl, lemme tell you," Darcy grins.

"Oh please, you're massive," Natasha's voice startles them both, as the assassin leaves the elevators and crosses the room toward the kitchen, wearing a tank-top and what look to be Clint Barton's PJ pants. "You want unrealistic expectations, I've spent my life trying to get Ariel's hair." She draws a soda from the fridge, popping it open and noting the two of them eying her over the back of the couch. "...We got Disney movies in Russia too," She smirks, winking, and leaving the room the way she'd come. Darcy busts out chuckling.

"See, there you go, we girls got some badass role models, that we'd never grow up to look like," She sums up for him, and Steve narrows his eyes.

"I'd argue, but I know better," He tilts his head, "Though I will say that a gal should never give up her greatest natural talent just to win herself a prince." Darcy reaches up, tapping the tip of his nose.

"Ah, young Mr. Rogers, I have taught you well." She sighs, dramatically, "Soon you'll have nothing more to learn from me, I fear."

"Doubt that," Steve meets her gaze, and Darcy feels something deep in her gut, shivers, and shuts her eyes tightly.

"Mmmph. Killing me here, Cap," She murmurs, before pushing herself up, wincing, touching her middle gingerly, "About time I slipped into a drug-induced coma...wanna help me to my apartments?"

"Darcy, I don't think..."

"Steeeeve, I'm getting couch-sores," She pouts at him, and he sighs.

"But if something happens..." He trails off, pressing his lips together, and Darcy swallows, getting it. He can't watch over her all night if she's in her room. At least, yanno, not by the laws of 1940s propriety. He looks up at her as she stands, and those eyes of his are so earnest, so blue, she just can't help herself, much as she thinks she should.

"...If something happens, JARVIS will tell you first," She replies quietly, reaching out despite herself and running her fingers through his hair and back from his face. This seems to ease the tension in his shoulders, and he smiles at her again, nodding, his ears turning a bit red.

"Course...still, I'm carryin' you." He informs her, and before she can protest, she's been plucked up from where she stood.

"Hey!" She protests, albeit weakly. Volstagg trails after them as Steve carries her toward the elevators. "Yanno, normal, non-serum'd human limbs can atrophy without regular exercise!"

"Indulge me," He rolls his eyes, grinning, looking for all the world as if she weighed nothing in his arms, "Anyway, I've carried you before."

"Too bad I can't remember," She jokes, but Steve shakes his head.

"I'm glad you don't, you were a mess," His smirk returns after a moment, though, "...You WERE singing though, while you were slipping in and out of consciousness. Something about having sunshine on a cloudy day."

"Oh god, that's horrible," She winces, as they leave the elevator on her floor, Steve's dog still happily trotting behind them.

"It was the sweetest sound in the world, the way you were bleeding..." He sets her down outside her door, biting his lip. The corners of Darcy's lips twitch. He's totally picked that -ism up from her.

"M'lucky to have you looking after me..." She swallows, looking down and shutting her eyes. "...I'll be fine tonight Steve, really, Bruce says I'm healing like a pro."

"I know, just..." And then he's tugging her close, hugging her tight while still being mindful of her tender wounds. Darcy indulges, cause damnit. Her family can't be there, and he cares about her, and strong as she tries to be, even moreso after what's happened, being held, taken care of, feels so good. And being held by -him- is even better. After a moment she wraps her arms around his waist, wondering why it's legal to have those abs of steel, pressing her cheek against his shirt. "...You're the only person I've really got in the world any more, you know." He admits, and Darcy knows that's not something he'd admit to just anyone. Her arms tighten around him briefly.

Pulling her head back to look up at him, she tries to grin, "You poor, poor man," She sighs. It does the trick, making him smile again. And then their eyes are meeting, and he lowers his head just a tiny bit...it's her half-terrified, wide-eyed expression that stops him though. He swallows, taking a step back, and much as Darcy misses his warmth, his closeness, the next look she sends him contains all the gratitude in her. "...Goodnight, Steve."

"...If anything happens..." He starts.

"First to know, I promise," She whispers, smiling softly at him before slipping around her front door. Once inside, Darcy groans, pressing her forehead to the cool metal, listening to Steve and his canine buddy pad back down the hall. It's happening, despite her best efforts toward self-preservation. Captain America is nuts about her. The feeling is mutual. And while it does indeed terrify her, Darcy realizes she wants it more than she needs to protect herself.

Still. It's gonna take her a few days to adjust to the idea. Maybe even, yanno, a week.

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	8. Chapter 8

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The following Thursday (written as THORSDAY! In all caps, on every white board calender in the offices), Darcy is deemed well enough to return to work. So naturally, she and Jane spend it doing anything but work. No, somewhere along the way they end up having a water fight on the roof, having found Hawkeye's not-so-secret stash of super-soakers ('Constant vigilance!' he'd cited). It was a hot summer day, no one was threatening the Earth, and Darcy was alive. Thor even joined them, until an actual thunder storm began building on the horizon.

"REALLY dude?" Darcy sighed, as they hurried inside. Lightening on top of a sky-scraper was generally best to avoid.

"It is not my doing!" Thor protested, soaking wet which, damn, she wasn't going to see Jane again for the rest of the day, was she? "The heavens themselves have spoken!"

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It was a good and proper storm by the time Steve met her in the theater. Darcy beamed up at him, bundled up in a blanket, her hair still damp from the water fight, and Cap sighed, "You're gonna catch yourself a summer flu," He told her, settling in at her side. The days of keeping a cushion between them had long passed, she mused, cuddling close to his side, a big arm automatically wrapping around her shoulders. He was nice and warm and smelled like soap, meaning he'd just showered. Darcy found she wasn't banishing the mental images nearly as swiftly as she usually did

"Hey, not all humans are as fragile as you used to be," She teased, and he smirked.

"Don't talk to me about fragile sweetheart, I've held in your kidney." Cap reminded her, mussing her hair. Darcy pouted.

"Where's my puppy?" She asked, motioning with her foot toward the warm pizza boxes on the coffee table before them. Steve shook his head, as he made a grab for one.

"Hiding under my bed," He said, devouring a slice in one go. Captain America was a pro-eater, only Thor could outdo him at dinnertime, "Couldn't coax him out for the life of me, poor guy's not a fan of the thunder."

"Aww, but a good thunder storm is one of life's great, free pleasures!" On cue, a crack of thunder reverberated through the Tower, and Darcy downright giggled, shivering giddily under her blanket. Around his second slice, Steve eyeballed her.

"You're in a swell mood tonight," He noted, and Darcy nods, pressing her lips together in a smile.

"We've reached my all time favorite movie...well, after Blade Runner," She amends, reaching for the remote. "Steve Rogers, I am about to subject you to the glory that is Beauty & The Beast. Get ready to have your all-American heart-strings tugged." For all her grand motioning and introduction, Darcy can tell he's picked up that this is something important to her, his smile turning into that soft and mushy one that always gets to her.

"Lead on, Miss Lewis." He salutes, third slice in hand.

While they usually never talk during movies, Darcy finds she really doesn't mind a bit of chatter through this one. Likely because she's already watched it so many times, and also, well, she's too impatient, reduced to a little kid showing someone important something she really loves. Her eyes glaze over through every song, and she can just feel Steve chuckling at her enthusiasm. Of course, toward the end, when things hit a little close to home, she sinks behind a throw pillow, eyes fixed to the screen.

"...So in the end, the Beast turns back into Thor?" Steve finally speaks, smirking, and earns himself an elbow jabbed into his rock-hard side.

"You've been spending too much time around me, Rogers," Darcy sighs, "The snark is rubbing off."

"Nah, just learning to speak the native language of the 21st Century." He corrects her, leaning back on the couch and winding a long damp strand of her hair around his fingers. She looks up at him, wondering if she even needs to explain anything at this point. He meets her eyes, and there's an understanding there, instead of the usual expression, a mix of fondness and confusion as to what she's looking so hard for. No, this time his gaze is steady.

Because she knows, she does, that he has still been that good man who got chosen to be a super-soldier, because of his good heart. But if their crash course on the last 70 years, as well as the events of Darcy's first couple of months at Stark Tower, has taught them both anything, it's that everything good can get some tarnish on it, that the world is a fucked up place that screws you over and is constantly in chaos, trying to take away what you love. Looking at him now, though, Darcy realizes that Steve Rogers isn't letting it get to him by accident. It's every day, choosing to be the good guy instead of the bitter, callous guy lesser men would have dissolved into by now.

And it occurs to her that hey, she might just be playing a pivotal role in his continued happiness.

But of course, she's still Darcy, and has to get her Darcy-ness in.

"I'm a mess, you know," She gulps, as he keeps playing with her hair, leaning in closer, "I'm...a fuckin' weirdo, dude..."

"I like weird."

"...And I'm way too short for you..."

"I prefer to think of you as portable," He grins into her hair. She turns and buries her face against his chest.

"...Tony could probably fetch you a super-model with way better teeth." She tries, voice muffled by his shirt, in what is clearly a last-ditch effort, and to that Cap just shakes his head.

"Look at me," He tells her, and she does, his hand under her chin. Darcy's eyes half-lid, her lips turning upward a half-second before he tilts forward, giving her the softest, sweetest kiss she's had in her adult life. Almost without her permission, her hands slide up into his hair as she kisses him back, just as gently.

"Miss Lewis," Steve murmurs when they part, and Darcy can feel his ears going warm under her wrists, "Hope you don't mind, but I'm in love with you." Her grin goes wide, as he kisses her nose.

"...Yeah, that's pretty cool," She whispers back, "Love you too, Captain Rogers," And then he's kissing her again, like a floodgate opening, this one eager and pent-up and Darcy wonders why the hell she waited so long to make-out with Captain America. Her arms wind around his neck, and who knew that a man tasting like a whole large pizza could be so hot? Steve's a novice at this, not really sure where to put his hands, obviously wanting to put them everywhere and not cross a line, all at once. It makes Darcy grin around his lips, til he finally settles those big hands of his on her waist, under her blanket. She sighs happily, pressing herself closer to him, he's just so damn -warm-...

A crack of thunder nearby goes right through the nerves, sending her forward with a groan and, consequently, him toppling backwards. Darcy laughs at the sight of him, propped up on his elbows, the sound sweet and free of her usual caustic filter. Outside the storm has only gotten wilder, "Told you, Cap," She waggles her brows, "Thunderstorms."

"I can see that," He runs a hand through his mussed hair, and good gods, Steve Rogers is blushing, lips swollen. Darcy bites her own somewhat puffy lip, before crawling over him, resting her chin on his chest, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat.

"Don't worry handsome, I'll go easy on you," She winks, and his eyes narrow.

"You're the one who needs to be handled with care," He reminds her, smirking, and Darcy opens her mouth to retort...and finds she has nothing. Meanwhile, Cap goes back to being just a little bit unsteady, "I'm just not used to, you know...any of this." He chuckles, she smiles.

"You're a fast learner, Cap," Darcy leans up, kissing his lips gently, and then settling on his chest again. "...But this is nice," She murmurs against his neck, pressing a kiss there, too. Steve draws in a long breath, letting it out with most contented sigh Darcy's ever heard, stirring up her hair. Darcy can totally go slow, if slow feels like this all the time. He reaches back and pulls her blanket over the two of them, his hand coming to rest just over a particularly jagged scar on her back. Another rumble from the sky, and she burrows in closer. "...You love me."

"Afraid so," His arms tighten around her, possessively, and she grins.

"Poor man," Darcy reaches up, her fingers toying with his hair. "...Tell me all about the boy in the sketch," She asks after a moment, glancing up at him again through her lashes. Steve smiles, slow and pleased, and Darcy's never seen his eyes look so untroubled. The storm rages on outside the big glass windows, as Cap paints a picture for her, of a skinny kid in Brooklyn with no one in the world except his best friend, and a series of dime store sketchpads...

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	9. Chapter 9

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There are still moments when Darcy's sure it's too good to be true. Something has to implode somewhere, he'll disappear, or realize what a chore she is, Loki will return and wipe her memory, he'll crash into a glacier again, -something-. It's all right though, because Steve has all the same paranoid worry, two-fold. After all, he's already been through some of that.

Then there are the other moments. Moments that are all lips and little gasps, awkward limbs bumping into each other, muffled laughing, hands gripping clothes to yank each other closer. Darcy hasn't done this since she was a teenager, the whole keeping things generally above the collarbones thing, and the novelty was definitely lost on her back then. Now it has her remembering the tingles of new love, discovering how jumpy and raw the nerves can be, only now it's backed by a completely adult depth of emotions.

And they aren't just keeping things (relatively) chaste because Steve's from an earlier time. After all the stories he's told her about Bucky, she knows that jumping in the sack right away was happening plenty in the 40s too, just not as blatantly. No, it's more the fact that he's nearer to 30 than 20, and hasn't ever had a proper girlfriend himself, close as Peggy got. All of it's new to him. And hell, she thinks, she's never dated a superhero. They're both perfectly happy with drawing out and savoring the experience, with figuring each other out one long, slow kiss at a time.

At least, when life as an Avenger allows it.

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"Damnit," Darcy was murmuring between kisses, having been lifted up to sit on the kitchen counter, hands trailing over Captain America's abdomen, "This uniform...does entirely...too much for you..."

"I'll try not to let Tony oggle me too much," Steve promises as he pulls back, grinning, before she yanks him in again by his belt, kissing his neck just under his ear. He has to go, but he's too good to let go, and Darcy loves seeing what sounds she can get out of him.

"Jeez, wrap it up already," Clint says loudly, slinging his quiver over a shoulder, grinning wide, "We've got a chopper to catch, shake off that barnacle, Cap."

"Oi, easy for you to say Katniss, your hot piece of ass is taking you -with- her!" Darcy shoots back, getting the middle finger in return. She grins, then sighs, whining a little. "We had a daaaaate."

"Threats to the world beautiful, they wait on no man," Steve murmurs, gripping her hips a little harder, fixing her with a look, the kind that drives it home for her every now and then, reminding her what a real thing this is, fun as it is to make out everywhere like teenagers. How much he really means it when he says something like, "Promise I'll come back."

"And I'll stay out of trouble," She promises right back, and then he's kissing her again, her legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. The man has a thing for biting her bottom lip, and it has Darcy gasping into his mouth, rolling her hips into his despite herself. "Damnit," She groans again, pulling away. Steve's forehead drops to rest against hers, his breathing heavy.

"Right. Helipad." He clears his throat. Darcy's smile goes soft as he disentangles himself from her, her hands reaching up and pulling down his cowl for him. "...I love you."

"Love you too handsome, don't get dead," She pushes his chest gently, and he smiles back at her, turning to go. And then, because she's Darcy, she calls after him, loudly, "Baby I hate to see you go, but I loooove watching you leave!"

"Uuuugh, I -just- ate!" Tony chooses that moment to complain over Steve's com.

Captain America leaves Star Tower laughing and red-eared, and really, Darcy feels like she's done her part for her country, right there.

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Instead of snuggling in front of a kid's movie with her superhero, Darcy spends her Thursday with Jane in Tony Stark's shooting range, shiny new handguns enduring some frustrated lady-use.

The huge, laser-shooting things SHIELD put upstairs in their labs are impressive and very handy against space monsters, but as Black Widow put it, dummy-proof and impractical for daily use. And then, realizing that three of her team mate's girlfriends went around their daily lives unarmed (Darcy's taser didn't count, according to Nat), the former spy's feminist sensibilities were entirely insulted, and she went out and "acquired" three compact Glocks.

Pepper, it turned out, was not-so-secretly awesome with a gun already, but Jane and Darcy had needed more than a little instruction. After a few afternoons with Natasha, she was confidant that they wouldn't shoot themselves in the foot. "Only practice will make your aim better, though. Every day, or I'll beat up your boyfriends."

"You're getting good," Jane notes presently, as they take off their gear and head back upstairs. Darcy grins,

"Think it might have something to do with not wanting to look anymore like Sally the Rag-doll than I already do," She tucks her gun into the back of her jeans. "...Wanna watch Aladdin with me?"

"...Really?" Jane arches a brow at her, but then shrugs, "What the hell, there's no work -or- Norse god for me to do tonight." She sighs.

"Aww, poor Jane, going -one- night without sex." Darcy gets swatted at.

"Oh, just wait," The tiny scientist's eyes narrow at her assistant, "For one, we don't know -how- long this will keep them in the field. And for two, once you get super-laid..."

"Okay, okay," Darcy groans, linking arms with her boss and tugging her toward the elevators faster, "I really don't need to know how Thor is in the sack, I hear you from two apartments down as it is."

"...Yeah," Jane's grin goes goofy, "...I feel bad for Agent Hill, she lives between you and I..."

"...Shit. Poor gal's gonna request a move before long."

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"Did it really take two months and a dozen Disney movies before you two finally became a thing?" Jane is asking around half a pint of rocky-road. Next to her, humming along to A Whole New World and hot-gluing tiny gems to the butts of their guns, Darcy nods.

"I'm a deep and mysterious woman, Jane," She says lightly, knowing her boss won't be fooled. Indeed, she gets nudged in the side by a be-socked foot. "...All right, I was scared shitless, you knew this." Jane chuckles, reaching for her beer.

"I did, but still, I'm not sure a nun would last that long, with Captain America after her."

"Not everyone can be conveniently baggage-free and optimistic when the guy of their dreams falls face-first outta the sky," Darcy smirks. Jane rolls her eyes.

"Please, I still had my ex's clothes hanging around the trailer."

"Still," Darcy sighs, setting Jane's gun aside to cool, now sporting a fairly impressive tiny approximation of a Schwarzschild wormhole diagram, done up in bling. "You can trust things like that, like a good-looking guy falling for you that hard and real, that fast. I can't. S'gotta be a catch somewhere, and I'm almost always right."

"And yet here we sit, watching Disney movies," Jane points out, though her tone is kinder, her smile less teasing. Darcy's grin returns.

"It might take me -time-, but I can -eventually- be convinced," She happens upon a scientific analogy, grinning wider, "I just feel the need to review my findings more often than you do, before forming a conclusion."

"My conclusion led to sex with a tall hot guy faster."

"Shut up."

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They're gone for a week and a half. All Darcy gets to know is that they're infiltrating a stronghold half-way around the world, and that direct contact is for important people only, like Director Fury and Agent Hill. For the first couple days, Darcy completely understands and accepts this as how things work. She, Jane and Erik are busy with Jane's latest round of experiments, and in the evenings Darcy distracts herself with video games and catching up on all the True Blood episodes she's missed.

After a week without word, though, She begins to resent the damn system. Pepper assures her that on their end, no news is good news, but this is precious little comfort. Not only does Darcy catch herself worrying about what Steve's doing, if he's hurt, if he's eating and sleeping enough, she also just plain misses him. They've barely spent more than a day apart in weeks til now, and Darcy didn't realize how much he'd become a part of her day. There's no tall figure shadowing her to make sure she's still healing properly, no muscly pillow when she watches tv, no feather-light kisses on her shoulders while she's filing notes.

And hey, who's taking care of him? Darcy isn't there for him if he slips into a brooding mood, or to order his everything-pizzas the way he likes them, or to put a smile on his face when the constant buzz of the world outside the Tower was a bit too much.

She started out just trying to make his days in the modern world easier. Steve Rogers has become so much a part of -her- experience at Stark Tower, though, that trying to imagine it without him is almost as depressing as the real thing. Darcy wills herself through the remaining time on coffee during the day, and her leftover painkillers at night, because even trying to sleep knowing he's not in his room a floor above her is getting difficult.

Damnit, if she didn't love him so much, she'd be pissed at him for messing with her ability to sleep like the dead. But Darcy does love him, and if it were any lesser man than Captain Steve Rogers, she'd resent that every bit of her was getting wound up in him. He loves her too, though, and loves all the things about her that exes have left her for. Thus, for as much as it drives her crazy pacing the lab, fearing the worst, and not being able to sleep without popping a codeine, she also kind of revels in it. It's more tangible proof that this is all real, and steady.

So when JARVIS finally informs them that their SHIELD chopper is once again returning, Darcy doesn't apologize for slamming her laptop closed and being the first to bolt for the elevators.

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	10. Chapter 10

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He's barely able to pry himself away from her long enough for his debriefing with Fury, limbs and lips melding, until he forces himself to, after whispered I-love-yous, giving her a tired, goofy, apologetic grin as he goes to follow the others inside. Darcy devours him with her eyes as he goes, both enjoying the sight and making sure everything's where it should be. The uniform is dirty, but otherwise Steve looks fine. Tony, meanwhile seems to be nursing a limp, and there's a few bloody tears in Nat's uniform. All in all though, they seem happy with the mission, and pleased to be home.

"Score one for the good guys," Darcy sighs to herself, relief washing over her in waves. And then she books it down to his apartment.

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When the door finally opens and he wanders in to find her sitting in the middle of his floor, his dog in her lap, the biggest grin spreads over Steve's face, and Darcy beams right back up at him. Volstagg had already leaped up, running circles around his legs, making sure his human knows how much he was missed. Steve bends to scratch his ears.

"For a super-soldier Cap, you look like you got steam-rolled," Darcy murmurs, standing and moving into his arms.

"I've got my limits too," He manages to answer, before she's pushed his cowl off and they're continuing where they left off up on the helipad, her lips parting in a kiss, his arms nearly lifting her up off the ground. He chuckles after a moment, "Sweetheart, I'm dirty and and I smell..."

"...-Amazing-," Darcy grins, her hand at the back of his neck, pulling him back down. Steve's gone for a good long moment, hands sliding down her curves as he kisses her hungrily, like a man who'd been dying of thirst for a week and a half. And then he grins, pushing back firmly.

"I aint kidding. I haven't had a shower in a week." Even Darcy can't help wrinkling her nose at that information, "When this suit comes off, it won't be pretty."

"I heartily disagree Sir," She lets out a long sigh though, releasing him. "Go, peel off your ripe rind!" She winks, pushing him toward his bathroom. Steve goes, backing away so that he can keep staring at her, looking like the tiredest, filthiest, happiest man alive. Darcy can't help it, something inside her chest swells. He's home, he's whole, and he's all hers for the night.

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After the door shuts behind him, Darcy turns, inspecting the room, while Volstagg takes up vigil at the bathroom door, tail wagging. It's not that different from her own small, studio-style apartment, at least in layout and basic furniture. Pale blue walls, huge, modern glass windows, thick beige carpets, new hardwood floors, a sleek kitchen. There isn't much in the way of furniture here though, while Darcy's place is cluttered with Goodwill décor. There's the Queen bed all their apartments came with, a basic, modern couch that doesn't look like it's been sat on much, and an equally un-used looking television. There are his many books on the cases, though, a home-made quilt on the couch that might be a hundred years old, and, yup, a record player on the dresser.

Grinning, Darcy browses the small stack of records Steve's managed to accrue, until she finds Danielle Darrieux, making a little sound of triumph as she sets the needle and moves to his closet. Predictably, it's full of button-ups, slacks, and jeans that, on Steve, still manage to make him look more like James Dean than whatever Lee model might be advertising them at JC Penny's these days. He's adapted to modern workout clothes, at least, and they hang neatly, just like everything else. Darcy swipes a pair of his Adidas running shorts and one of many crisp, white t-shirts. Also hung up. For once, it's her boyfriend making -her- feel like a slob.

Changing out of her smart blue dress and kitten heels (They had known Fury was going to be at the Tower that day which, yay for looking pretty when the Cap came home!), Darcy tugs on his clothes without shame.

"JARVIS? Can you call in my usual at Benicio's, for up here in Cap's room?"

"Three large everything pizzas, hold the pineapple, extra pepper?" The smooth voice confirms.

"Mhmm, and a bottle of Merlot for the lady, thanks!"

"My pleasure, Miss Lewis."

She then flops back onto his bed, her head by the foot, limbs and hair sprawled, shutting her eyes and singing along off-key with the French crooner, waiting for the sound of running water to stop.

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"You know French?" Turning her head, Darcy forgets how to use proper speech for a moment. She knows she's biased, but damn, no one holds a candle to Captain America in nothing but a towel. Volstagg turns figure eights around his ankles.

"...Uh huh," She clears her throat, forcing herself to look him in the eye...and realizing that holy shit, Steve is oggling her as well, braless and sprawled all over his bed, in his clothes. Her grin widens, the playing field is...sort-of even, "...My grandmae on mom's side came to the States during the war. Jewish French, representin'."

"Learn more about you every day," He murmurs, leaning down to kiss her gently, before moving around the bed to his dresser. Darcy rolls onto her stomach, watching him, unabashedly enjoying the view. He glances back at her over his shoulder, smirking. "You look good." It's enough to make a girl's legs go numb.

"And you look criminally good," Darcy sighs, making grabby-hands at the air as he shakes his head, laughing, tugging another pair of his workout pants on under the towel. Darcy pouts. "Tease."

"Look who's talkin'," Steve shoots back at her, running the towel over his hair before tossing it aside, climbing onto the bed. Darcy rolls over again, with barely enough time to catch her breath before he's hovering over her, leaning down for a kiss. Her hands go to his chest like a magnet, kissing him back slowly, groaning a little when he bites her lip, "...Missed you, gorgeous."

"Missed you more," She murmurs, kissing him again. And again. And then arms are tugging each other in, he's attacking her neck, and Darcy Lewis is making out with a shirtless Captain America, in his bed, to old timey French music. Her life is officially wonderful. Burying her hands in his hair, she drags him back to her mouth, his hands going places they've only ghosted over before. Over a breast, up under her thighs, this, this is finally going to happen, and then...he yawns.

"...Oh God," He winces, and Steve's just taken the Lord's name in vain, so Darcy has to giggle as he slumps against her, his head on her ample, unhindered chest. She runs a hand through his wet hair again, shaking her head.

"Babe, when was the last time you slept?"

"...Four days ago." It takes him a moment of thought, before he answers. Darcy's jaw drops.

"Damn, why?!" Even super-soldiers have their limits, and she's pretty sure four days is pushing his. Steve shrugs, nuzzling against her a bit.

"Bad guys hardly gave us a moment's peace, and everyone else needed sleep more than I did, at the end of our days, so I took watch more often than not." He smirks. Darcy tilts her head back, sighing, shutting her eyes.

"My boyfriend, is credit to team," She smiles as she says it though, in a bad approximation of Nat's accent, still petting his hair, "S'all right, I ordered us dinner. I'll get you fed and in bed." He pushes himself up again on his elbows, kissing her gently.

"You're too good to me," Steve murmurs, "Promise I'll make it up to you." His voice is low and promising as the music stops, and hers is downright dirty when she replies.

"Oh you will," Darcy waggles her brows, slithering out from under him to restart the record. "I'm ravaging you good and hard in the morning, Captain America."

She loves the way he turns a little red still, even as he grins back at her and his eyes tell her that he's very much getting used to all this, and likes it, a lot. Darcy sits back against the headboard, the dog jumping up to join her, and Steve crawling towards her on the bed, one hand sliding up her leg, "...Actually might have to ah, check with medical before we...well before." Now he really -is- blushing though, even as he presses a kiss to her knee, sending pleasant little shivers down her spine, "...Protection, and all."

"Ooooh," Darcy shakes her head, grinning again, petting the dog in her lap with one hand, the super hero at her knee with the other, "No worries Cap, I'm clean as a whistle." She doubts any grown man could turn a deeper shade of red.

"Well, I mean...you know," His glance totally goes to her stomach, and its the cutest, most awkward thing in the world."When I ah. Was unfrozen they uh. Said it might be possible that...serum and all, it's made things. Potent." A light dawns, and whether he's acclimated or not, some things a man will always have trouble will. Hell, Darcy's own father liked to pretend the little pills she started taking every day in high-school were vitamins. She smirks, ruefully, shaking her head again.

"No, really hun, I can't get knocked up," She swallows, as his brow creases in confusion. "They uh, had to take out most of that operation, after the attack. Can't make a bun without an oven."

It takes him a moment, but when he puts it all together, Steve's expression changes, completely, and Darcy finds herself unable to read the suddenly tense, stoic face in front of her. "You can't get pregnant." When he says it so bluntly, without a hint of embarrassment, she knows something's wrong, shaking her head, watching him warily.

And then he's forcefully pushing himself up off the bed, running both hands through his hair, sticking it all up on end. Volstagg picks up on his master's mood as well, ears perking, watching as Steve starts pacing.

"Steve, what's..."

"Because you were -here-," He blurts out, "You were HERE when something attacked us. And..." Oh, this is what's happening. This is Steve Rogers getting angry. "Now, you can't have children. ONLY because you were HERE!" Darcy swallows, shaking her head.

"Hey, now, one brave little ovary made it, they've got my caviar on ice, so..." Alright, now is so not the time to explain test-tube babies to a guilt-stricken and now really confused Captain America. Darcy winces, pushing on, her voice shaky with the effort of remaining glib,"Really, I mean I was kinda pissed that years of comforting myself with the knowledge that hey, at least I had birthing hips, was wasted air, but..."

"Don't," Steve stops her, "Don't try to pretend this isn't a big deal," He turns away, scrubbing a hand over his face, "It, you, you lost something...-fundamental-, only because you were in the crossfire." She looks down, biting her lip. She really can't pretend she didn't shed a few tears over it in the hospital. Darcy can't stand kids on principle, but hey, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

"It's not your fault..." Her voice sounds so small in her own ears.

"What if it'd been a limb? Your -spine-?! I can't..." Steve shakes his head again, turning back to look at her, "I was such a selfish ass, thinking my luck had turned around, but you..." He swallows hard, and she realizes his eyes are damp, and Darcy's at a loss. "What if it -is- your spine next time, Darcy? What if it's your life?"

At that, though, she frowns, raising a hand to stop him, "Hey, what, are you the only person in this room who gets to risk your life for the people you care about?"

"Yes!" He blurts out, and then winces, shutting his eyes tightly, "...I'm the one with the shield." He adds, quietly.

"I've got a gun now," Darcy points out sharply. Steve looks at her again, his eyes downright anguished, and still angry, and somehow still making her feel like the most loved girl in the universe. Her expression softens again.

"You shouldn't -need- one. This place is too dangerous for you and Jane," He states, shaking his head, "You're right in the thick of it..."

"And right near YOU," Darcy pushes herself up, walking across the bed on her knees, reaching for him. "What, you'd have them send us somewhere else, so...the next time the Avengers' loved ones got targeted, we'd be safely hundreds of miles away from the superheroes?" She tilts her head, and he slumps a bit where he stands, her logic sinking in as she wraps her arms around his bare waist. "Great plan, Cap."

"...I still don't like it," He rests his arms over hers, looking down at their linked hands. "I don't want this for you."

"I knew what I was getting into when I moved here, Steve. I did meet Thor before you," She reminds him softly, "And...wasn't Agent Carter in the middle of war zones?" She adds gently, and after a moment he nods. She squeezes him tightly, resting her cheek against his back, a sigh moving through her. How does a gal handle this, a dude who feels things this sharply? It must be something that comes with dating the good guy, Darcy supposes. A wonderful, terrible thing.

"...I couldn't sleep while you were gone," She confesses, shutting her eyes. "All I could think about was if you were hurt. It's all I'll think about if I'm here, or if I'm a thousand miles away and never see you again," She licks her lips. "...And I'm pretty sure it's all you'd think about too."

He turns in her arms then, squeezing her back and kissing the top of her head, winding his hands in her long dark hair. She looks up at him, wide-eyed and unguarded, willing him to know how much she understands, and how sure she is that there's nowhere else she wants to be. A slow, small smile returns to his face, "...I am a lucky bastard, I guess," He murmurs, this time kissing her lips, soft and chaste. "You deserve a lot better than this, Darcy Lewis."

"Better than these?" Darcy jokes gently, poking his abs, "No such thing, lover." She shakes her head, pulling herself close to him again, flush, "I got hurt. But I've still got you. S'all I need, Cap."

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A few moments later there's a knock on Steve's door, and it's an agent with their pizza and Darcy's wine. It takes a while for Steve to fully recover his good mood, but nothing helps quite like a pile of food, his dog at his feet, and a soft, warm Darcy curled up next to him, as they watch The Lion King on his never-used entertainment system.

"Can I see your gun?" He asks sleepily toward the end, and Darcy proudly pulls her glock out of her tote bag, freshly bedazzled with a red rose on the barrel. Steve chuckles, turning it over in his hands, before giving it back.

"I'm getting pretty damn good with it too," She winks, tucking it away, "Soon I'll be scaring baddies off of -you-."

"Sweetheart, if I have my way, they won't ever get near you again." He shuts his eyes, wrapping a possessive arm around her and finally starting to drift off, in his own bed, with his girl. Darcy gulps, settling in next to him and turning the tv off.

"We can always dream..." She whispers, kissing his brow, finally untroubled again as he sleeps.

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	11. Chapter 11

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There are a lot of ways to wake up, most of them grumpy and unpleasant. Darcy has woken up hungover, in a tent in the woods, in motels of questionable repute, and once, memorably, in Central Park next to Jane and a bottle of Southern Comfort (you've gotta celebrate opening your first wormhole all on your own, without the help of the Bifrost, somehow). Thor had found and carried both of them home the next day, with half of New York watching and snapping pictures, many of which had turned up on TMZ that afternoon. It was glorious.

This is decidedly the best way to wake up, however, with the scent of bacon on the air, Edith Piaf on the record player, and a very tall, very handsome national treasure sliding back into bed, leaning over and kissing her gently. "Mmmph," Darcy mumbles, light seeping in under her eyelids most uncomfortably, "Turn off the sun, maybe?" Steve's chuckle moves through her, and she finds her thoughts quickly moving southwards from the bacon.

"Outta my league, sorry Miss," He murmurs back, kissing her again, this time slowly, attentive, and with definite intentions. Apparently Cap has no issue with morning breath. Darcy grins against his mouth, hands sliding over his bare torso.

"Mmmph, thought I smelled breakfast," She notes, coyly, and Steve makes a sound of firm protest in his throat.

"It'll keep," He whispers, a hand sliding into her hair as he silences her again. The man loves playing with her hair, Darcy's noticed. She's not sure what exactly has happened between last night's brooding and now, but it looks like if anyone's going to be doing the hard ravishing, it might not be her leading. It's a very, very pleasant surprise at any rate. Though the way his hands clutch at her, almost too hard, just hard enough, Darcy's getting a hint as to where his head's at. Her mortality was driven home for him again, and quite thoroughly, last night.

His hands go to her (well, his) shorts, and Darcy wastes no time in helping him slide them off over her thighs, his fingers ghosting over the long, new scar on her left leg. It's an almost reverent touch, but Darcy finds herself suddenly nervous as his hands just barely creep under the hem of her (well, his, again) t-shirt, and distracts him from her torso momentarily by grinning, tugging at his pants.

Darcy knows she's pretty adorable, as gals go. There'd been a time when the thought of being tall and willowy in the style of Pepper Potts had been all she wanted, especially when the boobs came along when she was barely eleven, her peers calling her 'slut' for this reason alone, driving her to hide herself under her older brother's baggy cast-offs for most of middle school. But overall, she's come to embrace being short and curvy, pale and dark-haired. It hadn't hurt her odds at bagging a superhero, clearly.

But then she'd gotten chewed up and spit out by a pile of broken glass and metal.

Steve kicks off his gym pants under the covers and moves back to her t-shirt, his hands just a little nervous, even as his eyes meet hers, burning, and Darcy swallows, chewing on her bottom lip like an anxiety pro. He looks too damn good in the morning light, all golden and shirtless and nearly naked, while she looks a little like a jigsaw puzzle underneath. And of course, he misinterprets her nervousness, "...If you don't want-"

"Oh god, no, I do," She blurts out, putting a slow, shy grin back on his face and oh lordy, did she ever want to. "...S'just...not all really pretty under there, Cap." He shakes his head, leaning down to kiss her neck.

"I've seen most of it before," He reminds her, breath hot on her skin, and Darcy's eyes slide shut again.

"Not...like this," She gulps, not caring if it doesn't make sense. "I mean, first girlfriend you're seeing naked, and she's..."

"Gorgeous," Steve tells her firmly, reaching down again and tugging. Darcy gulps, before pushing herself up a bit to help him out, so that he can tug the soft white cotton up over her head and through her hair, sending the brown waves falling back down around her in a cloud. Her blue eyes go wide as his jaw goes slack, heart hammering nervously for a few long moments.

The worst of the lines are definitely over her abdomen, a cross-roads that has left her forever-pale flesh somewhat uneven. But there are a few that slice down toward her thighs, and one that peeks over the top of her left breast, over a collar-bone. And yet, her eyes frantically darting all over his face, Steve doesn't seem to be on the verge of an episode of self-loathing and guilt, and certainly doesn't look disgusted. In fact, Darcy's pretty sure he's having a hard time seeing anything other than a set of dynamite curves.

"Your skin," He swallows, wetting his lips as a tentative hand slides over her stomach, and Darcy's breath catches in her throat, "Your skin is so pale..." It's said with an almost reverence, an artist's appreciation. Darcy can't help the relieved little smile flitting over her full lips as Steve dips down, his mouth replacing his hands on her scars, kissing along the road-map over her torso. She wonders if he knows how absolutely amazing he's being.

"Mmm, sunscreen," She murmurs, hands going into his hair as he moves upwards, kisses pressed against her ribs, "Barely ever going out in the sun helps too..." Her voice trails off as he chances a glance up at her over her sizable chest, his face flushed and a question in his eyes. Darcy just nods, grinning, which puts a smile on his lips as well, before they're continuing their trek over her breasts and Darcy decides that coherent thought is way overrated.

He spends a lot of time at her chest, she could tell when his eyes wandered that he'd been thinking about it for a long, long time, and given unlimited access, the man goes to town. It's when she moans out his name that the possessive, determined Steve from earlier returns, moving back up to her lips and pushing her back into the pillows, kissing her hard, a hand behind her neck, the other gripping her hip. Darcy wraps her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and yup, someone is definitely ready to go, and Thor-Almighty, he feels so -good- pressed against her, skin to skin.

"Y-you're sure you're...?" She asks in gasp, when he pauses and rests his forehead against hers. Steve nods, squeezing her thigh as he does.

"Just...hope I don't disappoint," He whispers back, catching her little grin. Darcy shakes her head, lifting her hips as she feels his fingers hooking under the band of her boring ol' bikini-cuts, sliding them off. Built like a god (no, better), and he's nervous in bed. It just makes her heart pound harder in her ears.

"Nothin' to it, handsome," She licks her lips before kissing him again, hard and fast as he kicks off his boxers, and she's officially getting naked with Captain America. Instead of letting anxiety get to her, though, Darcy channels it all into kissing, grasping at him, winding her legs around him and letting him have the full force of her emotions. Steve seems to be of like mind, biting her bottom lip, sliding a hand down between her legs and oh.

"M'ready..." She pants against his lips. Hell she's usually half-way there just looking at him, and even without him really knowing what to do yet, a touch is enough to have her wet. Darcy's no virgin, but this, this is a whole other ball park. There have been guys she couldn't keep her hands off of, and then guys she thought she was in love with. The two together yet far, far more intense on both fronts, has her head reeling and her blood up. Even Steve seems surprised in a flushed, bewildered way, and it's got her grinning, breathing heavily, "...Have at me, Cap."

"...You try so hard to kill a moment," He feigns exasperation, which has her giggling under him right before he pushes inside of her, slowly, her laugh dissolving into a moan. Once again, his forehead drops down to rest against hers, steadying himself while she relaxes under him, her legs tight around his waist. He looks at her, those bright blue eyes of his so unguarded, so unabashedly crazy about her, the real deal, and Darcy feels as if she could burst, or die of happiness right there, but then, that might be kinda traumatic for the poor guy.

Instead, she starts rolling her hips up into his, guiding him into a rhythm, and yes, Steve Rogers is a -very- fast learner. It isn't long before he's holding her down again, thrusting into her, and Darcy might've marveled at his stamina, as a virgin and all, if she weren't too busy gasping his name, holding on to his shoulders and sinking her teeth into his throat after a hard, fast orgasm sneaks up on her.

That's what does him in, calling out in almost awed surprise as he comes inside of her, rolling the two of them over and clutching her close, both riding out the waves, lips finding their way back to each other. Steve's hands go from frantic to gentle against her back, and she finds that she's whimpering a little, nuzzling into his neck.

"M'sorry," He mumbles, somewhat hazy in the morning light, but he's grinning like an idiot, "Wasn't...wasn't very long..."

"Mmmph, shut up," She swats at his chest. It hadn't lasted long, but by golly, Darcy's addled brain thinks, it was certainly good. -Really- good. In fact, "It was perfect." She runs her tongue along the faint bite-marks on his neck, making him shiver under her, "You get a girl off good, Cap." It was hard to tell if he went red, what with the way they were both so flushed and warm.

"I tried, anyway," He brings her down for another kiss, this one slow and soft, and she's going limp against him, "You're so beautiful," He whispers, and she knows he means it.

"Careful there, gonna make a gal fall in love with you," She whispers back, but her expression is just as unguarded, her lips turning upwards in a slow, wide smile. Rolling off of him, Darcy sits up on her knees, determined to get a good long look at him like this, the sun coming in through the windows behind her. Yup, he's all a girl could imagine or want, naked and sculpted and perfect. And looking at her as if she were something glorious, back-lit and tousled. His grin wasn't going anywhere.

"Can we just...stay in bed all day?" Steve licked his lips as his eyes started taking her in all over again, breasts and hips and yep, Darcy was pretty sure he was ready to go again. God Bless America.

"I am all for this plan, Rogers...right after the bacon."

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Much, much later, lying tangled up in sheets after a shower and a nap, Darcy muses on her own mortality, perhaps a little later than everyone around her would've preferred, and it took sex with the man she loved to get her there, but still. Sex, she's had. Love, she's kinda thought she felt before. But it -wasn't- just sex she'd had for oh, the past three hours. She glances over at Steve, who's still napping, Volstagg's head on his chest. Nope, that had been a straight-up hardcore love-making session.

Which, well, she'd known she was in love with him before, sure. Mutually over-attached, attracted, all that, but there was something about them both being completely vulnerable to each other that had gotten through Darcy's last wall of self-defense. And she started seeing things the way Steve saw them, at least a little bit.

And damnit, she WAS squishy. And unprepared for bad guys, and violence, and fuck, she didn't want this to end, she didn't want to die. Her life was amazing, damnit. She didn't want to leave him alone, this man she was absolutely, completely in love with, and who looked at her as if she were -his- life line in a confusing, alien landscape.

Which got her thinking, watching Steve's chest move up and down in an untroubled sleep. Darcy wasn't a super hero, and judging by what had led to half the Avengers becoming such, she really didn't want to offer herself up to become one. With her luck, gamma radiation would just result in a tumor. Thor was an alien. But Clint and Natasha were, basically, just people. Really, really talented people. So were most of the SHIELD agents, really, if not quite on their level. Phil Coulson had lived through a hell of a lot before Loki and his shenanigans.

So, training is what she needed. It had been offered before, but Darcy'd hardly had the motivation for what it entailed, til now. She still wasn't sure she wanted to be loomed over alongside much more fit, and experienced agents-in-training. Darcy decided she'd have to find someone to kick her ass one on one.

Steve was right out, Darcy was pretty sure he'd go too easy on her, between being his girl and still recovering a bit. Tony, Bruce and Agent Hill were incredibly busy, Thor, well, he might accidentally crush her, and Clint was more of a shoot-from-a-distance guy. Which left one option for Darcy, who wanted to learn some hand-to-hand fighting, and how to get her hourglass self into shape.

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The very next evening, she caught Natasha outside of the labs, and without preamble, made her request.

"I want you to kick my ass until I can suitably kick the asses of others."

Nat gave her a once over, expression unchanging, and then shrugged. "Meet me in the gym tomorrow. Stop mainlining soda, it is now a sometimes-food, and steal yourself a bullet-proof vest that fits from the shooting range." The assassin finally smirked. "This'll be fun."

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	12. Chapter 12

((Filler chapter is filler!))

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"Not sure I like this," Steve frowned, the first time Darcy met up with him after a day of work followed by an evening in the gym with Natasha. She was sweaty, bruised, and grinning like a goof, tugging him into the shower with her.

"Aw don't worry, she's going easy on my broken parts!" And then she was busily introducing him to various things two people could get up to under running water, and Steve promptly stopped complaining.

Indeed, Black Widow's workout regimen for her skirted any serious strain on Darcy's stomach for the time being, but that didn't mean it was easy on the rest of her. There was strength training for her arms and legs, at least two miles on the treadmill to start, and then an hour of hand-to-hand combat. Needless to say, the first lesson, Natasha had landed far more punches than Darcy had blocked. But she was being a model, observant student no less.

And it was amazing, Darcy found, how working with someone intimidating, and yet very much still a hot lady with a hot butt and a hot boytoy, was very motivating. She'd never be on Black Widow's level, but hey, the pursuit of perfection was its own reward. As were Steve's abs, which Darcy now had the pleasure of having under her tongue every night. Having a boyfriend who could hoist you into all sorts of interesting positions was excellent, but after a while it did get a girl like Darcy wishing she had the strength in her legs to contribute a bit more to the sexy acrobatics.

"You can go faster than that," Natasha droned in her somewhat bored monotone, giving poor Darcy a smack on the ass as she passed the two-mile mark, four days in. "I'm raising the bar to two and a half miles, every day."

"You're EVIL," Darcy gasped, adjusting her ear buds. Only Florence Welch could see her through this now. Nat smiled.

"Nope, just Russian. You're also adding two pounds to all of your weights."

Darcy groaned.

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"I warned you," Steve is smug now, a little over a week into her new workout, applying icyhot patches to her arms and legs in the Tower theater. Darcy grumbles, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder and leaning forward to give him access to her back, which he dutifully rubs.

"Oh, like you get this kind of sore, -Captain-," She groans, shutting her eyes and enjoying the post-shower massage. He just chuckles behind her.

"I'm proud of you," he admits, "I'll sleep better at night, knowing you're getting proper training for some of the stuff we deal with."

"You seem to be sleeping pretty well already these days," Darcy's voice drops with a grin, and she can just picture him shaking his head, face warming.

"Yep. So clearly, Nat's not wearin' you out -that- badly, if last night on the roof was any indication." He surprises her by summing up. Darcy glances over her shoulder, biting her lip.

"Gettin' kinda fresh, Cap!" She notes, and the man affects a courtly bow, "I'm so proud of you, baby. And yeah, it's amazing what wounds a girl can overcome, with you in her bed...oh hey guys." She looks up just in time to catch Jane's grimace as she and the god of thunder join them in the theater.

"I guess I deserve hearing some of that," The wee scientist concedes, while Steve clears his throat loudly. Darcy's grin goes wicked.

"Damn right, after the shit I've tried to sleep through in the past. Seriously I could swear he was -killing- you in there..." Thor's booming laugh is the icing on the awkward cake.

"Where I come from, noise during the bedding is expected, and plenty of it!" He declares, and Darcy enjoys watching Jane go redder than Captain America at a strip club. Or so she would imagine, if such a thing had ever happened. "Jane's glorious cries of elation would do the halls of Asgard proud!"

"YES, WELL," Jane cuts him off, moving toward the entertainment system and starting Mulan. After Hercules, Thor has gotten quite hooked on what he calls 'Midgardian animated theater', and hey, Darcy muses, she and Steve are getting plenty of quality alone time elsewhere these days. Another studly blonde intent on learning about the world couldn't hurt. Jane, meanwhile, is rather impressed with her assistant's insight.

"I like these tales!" Thor proclaims as the credits roll, appropriately to the dulcet tones of a 90's boy-band. "Is this one based on a true warrior as well?" Darcy blinks, tilting her head.

"...Well, I know it's based on a very old Chinese legend, of a military leader who took her father's place in the army...wait, are you saying Hercules is real?"

"His exploits were not so littered with modern Midgardian humor, and his realm is not nearly as pastel-colored, but yes," Thor smiles. Darcy and Steve just both stare at him for a moment, jaws slack, while Jane chuckles.

"You get used to it after a while," She murmurs, reaching up and mussing his long hair fondly from her spot perched on his knee, looking tinier than ever with his huge arms around her. Darcy has to grin. She admits, she kind of avoided their PDA for a while there, more because she was frustrated as hell than because it actually bothered her. Now that she's not angsting over avoiding her own superhero's advances, Darcy has to admit, her boss and the Alien are pretty adorable together.

"...Awesome," She shakes her head, mind still kind of boggled, "But yeah, Mulan was, you can see, the first Asian Disney gal, and the first who got to kick ass, too. That was pretty radical."

"Not only that but she pretended to be a man," Jane added, waggling her brows, "Heavy stuff for the mid-90's."

"Why?" The boys both asked at the same time, but, Darcy correctly assumed, for very different reasons.

"I mean, the day and age, she'd have to, it makes sense for the story," Steve points out, while Thor waves a hand.

"Gender is somewhat...fluid, for many in Asgard."

"...All right," Darcy replies brightly, filing that one away for the moment, addressing Steve first, "This goes back to it being the age when everyone looked way too deep into everything," She explains, "And hey, I think with good reason in this case! On the surface, it's an empowering story about being yourself, even if that doesn't fit society's mold for you. You wanna go off and fight with the boys, fuckin' do it, and all," He nods, grinning, and Darcy bites her lip, "...But then, for like, say, some who's WAY different? Gay, or who wants to be a different gender, this movie meant a lot too," She clears her throat, not knowing how he'd process that, "My friend Jenny from high school, for example, was born pretty much knowing she was supposed to be a dude. Had Mulan all over her bedroom walls for way longer than most kids would."

Captain America takes this, as most things, in stride, "...Knew a couple guys in the Army who were...well, yeah," He clears his throat, speaking in the textbook manner of a guy who's cool with it, but you know, grew up old school. "Back in those days though nobody talked about it...much," He smirks again, "Bucky did say you could always tell, though. The guy who bragged a little -too much- about how many dames he was gonna bag on leave. Then you'd see him out in town and he's never far from his lib buddy." Jane snorts,

"Yeah, not much different these days there," She grins, "It only just became okay to be gay in the military like, months ago." His eyes practically bug out and oh, Darcy could kiss him.

"It took that lo-...damn," He shakes his head, "I mean, at least it happened I guess. Everyone's pretty much exactly the same in a foxhole anyway."

"Here here!" Thor lofts his mug of Newcastle in agreement, "Your world does seem very caught on such petty differences, but it is good to teach your children to embrace them."

"Yeah, well, the pig-headed people keep breeding and telling their kids that Disney movies are evil, but things are changing, slowly. Now," Darcy squints at Thor, "What's this about gender being fluid in Asgard?" Thor shrugs,

"Well, Sif hardly faced any disapproval when she chose the spear, and Loki..." Jane cuts in, far too amused to keep silent,

"His brother can become a woman."

"...What." Steve blinks, and Thor chuckles.

"Well, more than that, he's a shape-shifter, he can assume the form of beasts as well."

"...He'd make one hell of a furry, then." Darcy just has to shake her head, reaching for a beer as well. No wonder Jane's come into work hungover after a date more than thrice, you need alcohol to handle this shit. She's not surprised by the jealous longing in Steve's eye as she takes a swig of the blessed British brew, this shit is ridiculous. Jane just smiles.

"Show them the pictures of your nephews, honey," She nudges her god, and Darcy narrows her eyes at her. She's enjoying breaking both her and Steve's brains way too much. Thor, meanwhile, rummages in his pocket for the wallet Jane got him not long ago. He enjoys dressing like a native, somewhat envious at first of his teammate's ability to go seamlessly from hero to civilian. And holy shit, he actually has pictures in it.

"...I can't look away."

"How do you even...manage eight legs on a horse?" Steve looks on the small sketch of Sleipnir, with an artists' curiosity.

"He's a very talented lad!" Thor beams proudly.

Jane Foster just laughs and laughs.

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	13. Chapter 13

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Darcy's always favored Autumn, and as a brand new resident of the North East, Autumn in New York City just plain sounds all kinds of romantic. The first morning in September wherein the temperature is in the 50s, she pounces on Steve like a giddy cat, waking the poor man up from a doze. "It's Fall!" She sing-songs, drowning in one of his button-up shirts and not much else. "Let's do Fall-things!" Steve chuckles, wincing, hands automatically going to her hips as she straddles him.

"Merph, what does that entail, exactly?" He asks sleepily, before yawning. Darcy tosses her hair, smiling wide.

"You're the native New Yorker here, Cap," She leans down, kissing him good-morning long and slow, her hair creating a curtain around them. Steve stirs under her, hands wandering.

"Mmmyes, but it's been a while," He reminds her, starting in on her buttons. Darcy giggles.

"Granted. I've got plans for us, not to worry."

"After this?" The shirt is suddenly halfway across the room.

"After this..."

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Although it's just barely too warm outside to be wearing them, Darcy stubbornly sports a scarf and hat out and about New York, first dragging Steve to Central Park and then, of course, to the movies. By this time he's caught up on the Disney library, but the latest masterpiece how been out so long it's at the dollar show, and that's just fine by Steve, who thoroughly enjoys the ratty seats, fake buttered popcorn, and matinee crowd peppered with rowdy kids.

"And there you have it," Darcy hums happily as they wander back to the tower afterward, arms around each others waists. "From sickeningly sweet domestic Princess who ends up with a corpse snogger, to arrow-shooting ginger gal who'd rather pick her own prince," She grins, "Congrats, Rogers, you're kinda caught up on pop culture."

"Kinda," Steve laughs, taking a deep breath through his nose, "...It really does smell like fall in New York, that didn't change much...more gasoline and hot dogs on the air, is all." He notes wryly.

"Gotchya...hey, you know, this is our first actual date outside," Darcy points out, hooking a couple of fingers through his belt loop.

"You're right...I need to take you out more," The smile he gives her is downright old-school, Hollywood leading man, good grief, "Once you get used to all the lights everywhere, it aint so bad. Dunno why I've been such a recluse..." On cue, someone's camera goes off nearby, aimed at the two of them. Steve has the good humor to grin, tugging her closer, "Oh right, that's why."

"Oh man, there'll be no peace now," Darcy groans, tucking her face into his side for a moment, "The internets are already a little bored with shots of Thor and Jane." And the closer they get to Stark Tower, the more cameras seem to go off.

"Let 'em snap," Captain America is terribly light-hearted as they enter the building, kissing the top of her head. Darcy has no shame in taking most of the credit for that. It's her patriotic duty and all, making sure that Steve Rogers is the happiest man in New York. "We can always go back to being recluses."

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"You're really improving,"

Coming from Natasha Romanoff, that was astronomically high praise.

Darcy's been at this for weeks now, eating better, running, and fighting with Natasha most every night that there haven't been bad guys to fight instead. She's even been cleared for sit-ups. Darcy's gotten good enough and fit enough, in fact, that Steve feels like he can watch without cringing every time Black Widow lands a blow. Her limbs might not be super-strong yet, but Darcy is discovering that she has the capacity to be fast like a freak.

"I'm good at dodging, at least!" Darcy grins, breathless as she ducks under another one of Nat's punches. Across from the boxing ring, Steve chuckles, having finished with his punching bag and weights some time ago. Now he's sitting on one of the weight benches, sketchbook on his knee, trying to capture the two of them sparring on paper.

"Do not ever underestimate that talent," Nat tells her smoothly, hardly breaking a sweat as she aims a sweep to knock Darcy off her feet. Darcy, miraculously, jumps. "Good. I will never be able to match Bruce's fists, for example. But I can always leap out of the way in time."

"Yeah I've gotta work on that," Steve mumbles to himself, and Darcy laughs, aiming a fist that rolls off Nat's shoulder. And then there's a familiar voice over the loud speaker, deep and distinct and now associated with the End of Fun.

"Avengers, assemble on the roof in fifteen." Director Fury commands in his best buzz-kill voice, "Briefing classified." Darcy sighs, going limp, and Steve grumbles as well. Natasha, of course, is as cool as a cucumber, gliding toward the exit.

"Keep up the good work Miss Lewis. See you soon, Cap," Black Widow smirks, waving.

"Sorry sweetheart," Steve approaches the ring, lifting her with both hands on her waist and setting her on the floor again. He always apologizes, and Darcy's stopped trying to make him stop. She just stands on her toes, wrapping sweaty arms around his neck and tugging him down for a kiss.

"Come back to me."

"Always do. Stay out of trouble?"

"No promises," She winks.

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Like most memorable, every-day heroes, when evil attacks Stark Tower the very next day, Darcy Lewis is in the bathroom. She's just washing her hands when she hears the gunshots down the hallway, followed by the tell-tale radio crackle and barked orders that accompany SHIELD agents engaging bad guys. Her first instinct is, of course, to be stupid and have a look, but Nat's voice is practically in her ear saying "niet", and so Darcy goes with her second instinct, which is to hole up in a bathroom stall.

"Jarvis?" She whispers from her hiding place, and there's no answer. That, right there, is enough to almost undo her.

It's quiet after only a few minutes, though, and Darcy slowly crawls off the back of the toilet she'd been balancing on, slipping off her work heels and leaving them behind, padding to the door in her stockings. Opening the restroom door wide enough to peek outside is perhaps the most terrifying thing she's done since taunting a Gron. There's no one out there, though, except for a very still agent lying on the floor.

Darcy swallows. There aren't many agents stationed this high up in the tower, because above the labs is all living areas. As such, she and Jane had kind of gotten to know the faces in suits they saw daily. She crept carefully over, touching the man on the shoulder, and he groaned softly, "Agent Marcus?" Darcy whispers, applying pressure to the growing red spot on the man's chest, "What happened? Who's in here?" She looks around her. No broken glass, at least not here. They hadn't busted in like most baddies would have to.

"Agents," Agent Marcus manages to force out, before his dark eyes roll back in his head. Darcy bites her lip, hard, to keep from making a noise, to keep from choking up.

Well, shit.

She tries to remember everything Black Widow's taught her, but it's a bit of a jumble in that moment. Darcy does have the sense to take the Agent's gun from his belt, her own left at her desk in her purse, before creeping forward again.

The halls on her floor are eerily silent, and Darcy passes two more familiar faces dead on the floor before she reaches her offices. Swallowing her fear as much as she can, relying on years of building up walls around her real emotions, she takes note that they were shot with precision. The precision of a SHIELD agent. A SHIELD agent would know that the Avengers were gone on a mission today. There's a steady, sick feeling growing in Darcy's stomach.

The labs have walls of windows open to the halls, and Darcy drops to her hands and knees before chancing a peek over the solid partition.

There are five agents with guns, standing around Pepper, Jane, Erik, and a dark-haired woman Darcy doesn't know, but seems naggingly familiar. Jane seems to be arguing with one of the gunmen, and the glass is thick, thus Darcy can't make out what they're saying too clearly. The gunman presses his handgun to her head, though, and Darcy's clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from yelling. Jane begins nodding, swallowing, motioning upstairs. Upstairs, where her wormhole set-up is.

At that moment, Pepper's wandering eyes catch Darcy's from across the room. Not breaking eye contact, and with the gunmen distracted by Jane and Erik and their explanation of the lab's layout, Pepper draws something out of her pocket, waiting a moment before setting it on a desk. Then the rogue agents are forcing the whole group out of the labs, toward, Darcy assumes, the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall from where she was hiding.

Bouncing on her heels a few times, counting to five to psyche herself up, Darcy hurries around to the doors into the room, to the desk Pepper had been standing by. The object she'd left behind is familiar, the gadget almost always on Miss Potts' ear, like a space-age bluetooth that only Tony Stark could design. And there's a flashing red light on it. Clipping the device to her ear, Darcy hits the only button, whispering, "Hello?"

"Pepper?" A vaguely familiar voice asks, edged in panic.

"No, um. Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster's assistant." She realizes how frantic her whisper sounds, and takes a deep breath, "Hi."

"Col. Rhodes. Where's Miss Potts? Are you near the labs?" Darcy lets out a breath of relief, and starts creeping the way the gunmen went, describing the scene she'd just witnessed to the man.

"How did they get all the way up here?!" She asks, the sounds of sirens and men shouting orders in the background on his end.

"Like you said, must have just been Agents, clearance and all," Rhodes sounds as offended as Darcy feels, "They got up to the labs and then sealed everything off. Hell they even knew how to cut Jarvis' systems."

"That'll have Tony alerted," Darcy notes in a whisper, tucking her own gun into her waistband to join the spare, as she passes her desk and moves toward the other exit, near the stairwell. She's not sure where her nerve is coming from, this isn't nearly as abrupt a scene as the last time she dared some thrilling heroics. She just knows she has to see what's going on, that she can't leave her best friend on her own again.

"There's a good chance the mission the Avengers are on was a diversion," Rhodes divulges, and Darcy swallows, her courage rising. The good guys might be there any minute. "If what you're saying is true it's even more likely, whoever is behind this might just be out to get themselves a wormhole."

"So I get why hijack Jane and Erik then, but why Pepper and that other woman, though?" Darcy asks in her whisper, trying not to echo too loudly in the stairwell, eying it up and down. It looks clear enough to her. Rhodes is quiet for a moment, murmuring off the phone with someone nearby.

"...Missing since thursday?" She overhears. And then he's back, "Miss Lewis, describe that woman again?"

"Um...long dark hair, huge blue eyes, tall...kind of looks like an elf?" She tries her hardest to open the door to the second floor of the labs quietly. "I can get you a better description, hold on, I'm following them..."

There's another pause, and Darcy overhears him repeating her own name to that same someone off the line. And then, "Miss Lewis, do not, I repeat do NOT engage, do NOT let yourself be seen, find somewhere secure and HIDE." At that moment, peeking into the second set of labs, Darcy places that woman and her face, turned fully to where she's hiding, eyes wide. Pepper squeezes her arm, subtly telling her to look elsewhere.

Darcy knows that face from a blurry photograph that stands, framed, on Bruce Banner's desk.

"Oh, hell no," Darcy murmurs into the communicator, yanking both guns out of her skirt, "If someone's going after the girls, Rhodey, the girls won't be going quietly." Over his protesting, Darcy raises her voice, as much as she dared, "If the stairwell was blocked before, it looks cleared now, they're all up here, be awesome and send people in." And then she begins gathering her nerve.

Rationally, she knows they're not really expecting anyone to be left up here. The Agents downstairs died because they were more than likely caught by complete surprise, their own turning on them (at least, she hopes so). No one knows she's here. Taking a deep breath, and turning off Pepper's blue tooth, Darcy creeps in through the open door to the labs, slipping behind a desk, and watching.

Jane and Erik are adjusting the dials and knobs on the wormhole generator, casting silent glances at each other and, Darcy can tell, trying to figure out if there's any way for them to sabotage the whole thing. Pepper and, Darcy recalls the name now, Betty-something, are standing stock-still with guns at their backs, and it's this fact that's likely kept the two scientists from doing anything stupid yet.

Darcy looks at the agents...yes, they're a little familiar, probably from downstairs where she hardly spends any time unless she's going to the gym, but...she squints. Their eyes are all wrong. Like how Erik described himself and Clint when Loki had taken them over, only they're not blue, it's much more of a yellow-white glow in their faces. And the way they're standing...oh yeah, they're brain zombies at the moment. But still, zombies with good aim.

"It's warming up," Jane backs away from the machine slowly, her voice wavering, and Darcy knows by her crumpling expression that her boss couldn't think of a way to fuck up these drones' plans. And they're all getting dragged along, to wherever that wormhole leads. Darcy swallows. Her time's almost up.

Natasha had praised her thus far for her ever-improving aim with a gun, and her ability to dodge. Darcy prays to Thor-almighty and his whole weird family that they're enough, reaching into the pocket of her skirt once and touching the abused, crumbled, but still whole sketch that never leaves her person. "If this fails, I'm haunting Fury," She vows to the cosmos and to her picture of Steve, and then raises her glock, resting it on the edge of the desk, and taking aim at the agent just behind the most cool-headed person on the floor, Pepper.

The bullet takes him in the shoulder, just below the collar bone, and the man crumples like a ragdoll. Darcy finds herself recalling all the weak points in SHIELD standard armor, she wasn't even aware that shit had sunk in. Pepper is, of course, on top of things, grabbing the gun he drops and yanking Betty with her, shuffling backwards under a desk while the other four agents are distracted, looking around wildly. But Darcy's already moving, behind boxes and desks and crates, so not being careful about making noise anymore.

"Spread out!" One of the agents shouts, the sound still kind of hollow and robotic. Darcy's already circled to just behind the generator though, standing up long enough to send a bullet through the knee of the female agent guarding Jane and Erik.

"It's the Cap's!" She groans, clutching her leg. Her gun is right by Jane's feet, the scientist now crouching low, eyes following Darcy's path around the edge of the labs.

"Don't kill her! He wants 'em all!" the first agent shouts again, and for all his talk, gunfire still crackles over Darcy's head.

"Shit!" She yelps, tucking into a roll that would make Black Widow proud. As she comes up, she manages to take out a third agent by hitting him in the leg as well, leaving just two standing.

Pepper chooses that moment to rise again, gun trained at the back of one's head, and Jane follows just a half-second after her, aiming for their apparent leader. Darcy finds herself right in the man's crosshairs, nothing left to hide behind, the generator bright and blue behind him, the windows to the city lit up behind her in the afternoon sun.

"...Not as useless as he described, then," The agent notes in that hollow, creepy tone that says there just might still be a real human in there, somewhere, while something talks through him. Darcy swallows, not lowering her gun. With Jane behind him, and his associate handing his gun over to Pepper, they're in a good place, she knows, her arms and legs shaking. There's still a fucking gun aimed at her.

"Wh-who?" She gulps, annoyed at how decidedly un-badass she sounds. The man just grins, inhuman and zombie-like, and moves his finger. Behind her, Darcy hears the unmistakable sounds of a man with an arc-reactor in his chest in flight, and she does exactly what Nat would've told her to do.

Darcy dodges.

The gun goes off wild, the windows shatter, and a brain-washed SHIELD agent gets blasted into unconsciousness.

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"Hold still," Steve's grinning as she fidgets, looking at her over the top of his sketchbook.

"I'm terrible at being still, you know this," Even so, Darcy relaxes against the ropes at the edge of the boxing ring, resting her elbows on them, her hands in her boxing gloves, "And I've been sitting here for an hour. I'm a hero Steve, I've got hero-type things to get up to!"

"I'm almost done, -Agent- Lewis," He bites his bottom lip in concentration, and damnit, it's sexy as hell. Darcy's expression goes predatory, pursing her lips and looking at him from under heavy lids. He looks up at her sharply, his own gaze rather heated, and she grins wide. "...All right, s'just shading now, you can move." Darcy laughs, hopping down from the ring and stretching, in her tank top and high-waisted, far-too-short boxing shorts. Steve is almost successfully distracted. Almost.

"So, any word yet on who did the brain-washing?" Darcy asks, shaking out her hair. Not missing a stroke of the pencil, Steve shakes his head.

"According to Thor, his brother's still imprisoned in Asgard," He sighs, "But apparently that doesn't rule him out completely. Whoever it was, they'll try again."

"Once word gets out in the bad guy community what Jane's got up here, I think we'll have a few people trying again," She plops down next to him, trying to get a good look at the nearly-finished sketch. "Woah. I'm smokin', Cap." It's a fine little pinup, Darcy has to admit. She looks curvy, leggy, and a little bit like she could fuck up your day. He's gotten her eyes just right, too.

"I draw what I see, sweetheart," He murmurs, leaning over and kissing her neck, the arm around her waist more possessive than ever. It's funny, though. After what happened a few days ago, he's clingy, but also proud, awed. No one's really helpless in this relationship, not anymore, and defying death together has him far less guilt-ridden, and far more...well, randy. Darcy isn't easily distracted this time, though, looking herself in the eye, seeing the toughness there, the sarcasm, and the sex.

"...You see all that?" She asks, her voice an unguarded whisper. He nods against her skin. "Damn..." She grins, "Should frame it, to remind myself."

"Nope," Steve says decidedly, shutting the pad, grinning, "This one's staying with me. It aint fair that only one of us gets a good luck charm." Darcy laughs, long and happy and full, and then sighs dramatically, leaning over and taking his face in her hands.

"Oh Cap, I fear I've turned you into a hopeless romantic." She laments, kissing him softly.

"Mmm, must've been all those Disney movies..."

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